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BY  JOHN  STRANGE  WINTER. 

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izmo.     Paper,  50  cents;  cloth,  $i. oo. 

A  MAGNIFICENT  YOUNG  MAN. 

EVERY  INCH  A  SOLDIER. 

AUNT  JOHNNIE. 
THE  OTHER  MAN'S  WIFE. 

ONLY  HUMAN. 

THE  TRUTH-TELLERS. 

INTO  AN  UNKNOWN  WORLD. 

"  The  reading  world  has  a  great  respect  for  its 
fun-makers,  those  who  skilfully  weave  the  gaudier 
colors  into  the  story  of  life's  web.  John  Strange 
Winter  never  fails  us  in  this  respect.  Her  choice 
of  characters  is  out  of  the  common,  and  her  tact 
is  exquisite  as  she  brings  them  together,  groups 
them,  and  disperses  them  with  their  various 
destinies." — Boston  Courier. 


THE    PEACEMAKERS 


BY 

JOHN  STRANGE  WINTER 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  TRUTH-TELLERS," 
"ONLY  HUMAN."  ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY 

1898 


COPYRIGHT,  1898, 

BY 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — SOMETHING  HAPPENS 5 

II. — THE  STORY  OF  A  NEW  RELIGION 14 

III. — A  PLUNGE  INTO  A  STRANGE  WORLD 21 

IV. — JOHN  STRODE .  31 

V. — THE  STORY  OF  THE  DIAMONDS 39 

VI.— THE  SANCTUARY  OF  THE  PEACEMAKERS 51 

VII. — MRS.  MATTHEW 57 

VIII. — ALL  SORTS  AND  CONDITIONS  OF  MEN 66 

IX. — UNDER  THE  VENEER 76 

X. — THE  DIFFERENCE  IN  A  CHOICE 92 

XI. — A  THUNDERBOLT 100 

XII. — No  ALTERNATIVE 122 

XIII. — A  WAY  OUT  OF  THE  DIFFICULTY 137 

XIV.— ON  A  LONELY  PATH 148 

XV.— A  RAY  OF  LIGHT 161 

XVI.— THE  LITTLE  BIRD 171 

XVII.— PLAIN  SPEAKING 184 

XVIII. — THOUGHTS 196 

XIX.— A  GREAT  SOCIAL  EVENT 207 

XX. — A  WALL  OF  ADAMANT 216 

XXI. — BREAKING  BOUNDS 227 


2229095 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXII.— A  MOMENTOUS  INTERVIEW 240 

XXIII.— THE  WORM  WILL  TURN 252 

XXIV.— ON  A  NEW  ROAD 265 

XXV.— HURRAH  ! 278 

XXVI.— LOST! 29* 

XXVII. — THIRTY  YEARS  OF  WAITING 3°4 


THE  PEACEMAKERS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

SOMETHING   HAPPENS. 

It  is  wonderful  to  note  as  we  go  through  life  how,  in  a  single  mo- 
ment, the  whole  current  of  our  existence  may  be  irrevocably  changed. 

A  SUDDEN  thrill  shot  through  Florence  Milvane's 
heart.  It  was  not,  as  a  general  rule,  a  heart  that 
was  troubled  with  thrills  or  qualms  of  any  kind,  for 
Florence  Milvane  was  a  staid  little  woman  who  went 
to  business  in  the  City  every  morning  at  ten  o'clock, 
who  did  her  full  share  of  work  during  a  stated 
number  of  hours,  and  sometimes,  if  there  happened 
to  be  a  press  of  business  on,  for  a  longer  time  than 
the  regulation  slice  of  the  day  which  constituted  her 
working-time. 

She  was  pretty, — yes,  very  pretty ,— of  a  fair  and 
ethereal  type  both  of  face  and  person;  she  had  a 
sweet,  refined  voice,  was  worth  just  fifty  shillings  a 
week  to  her  employers,  shared  rooms  with  a  girl 
friend,  went  for  bicycle  rides  on  Saturday  afternoons 
and  generally  on  Sundays  too,  belonged  to  a  choral 
society,  and  was  just  turned  four-and-twenty. 

5 


6  THE  PEACEMAKERS. 

As  I  have  said,  she  was  a  staid  little  person,  and  in 
truth  she  had  had  enough  experience  of  the  sad  side 
of  life  to  make  her  so,  for  Flo,  as  her  own  people 
called  her,  was  the  eldest  of  a  large  and  fatherless 
family.  Her  father  had  been  in  business  in  rather  a 
large  way,  but  he  had  died  suddenly  when  compara- 
tively young  and  had  left  his  widow  with  about  two 
hundred  a  year,  on  which  she  had  to  do  the  best  she 
could  for  the  young  brood  who  had  been  accustomed 
to  a  large  house  run  on  generous  lines. 

Mercifully,  the  very  young  adapt  themselves  to 
change  of  circumstance  with  wonderful  rapidity,  and 
by  the  time  Flo  Milvane  was  turned  seventeen  she 
as  naturally  found  herself  looking  out  for  something 
to  do,  as  she  would  have  naturally  looked  out  for  a 
situation  as  a  domestic  servant  had  her  father  hap- 
pened to  be  a  blacksmith. 

She  was  not  without  influence,  for  Thomas  Mil- 
vane  had  been  a  straight  man  possessed  of  many 
friends,  and  at  least  half  a  dozen  business  houses 
were  ready  with  an  offer  of  a  place  for  his  daughter. 
Her  career  in  the  City  has  little  or  nothing  to  do 
with  this  story.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  after  she 
entered  upon  it  she  never  cost  her  mother  a  penny 
for  her  personal  needs,  and  after  twelve  months  had 
gone  by  she  began  to  pay  for  her  own  board  and 
lodging.  Two  years  after  this  Mrs.  Milvane  fell  in 
for  a  small  inheritance,  including  a  pleasant  cottage 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  7 

a  few  miles  from  London,  and  left  her  small  abode  at 
Brixton  to  go  and  dwell  under  her  own.  vine  and 
fig-tree  in  the  country.  It  was  at  this  period  that 
Flo  Milvane  went  into  rooms  together  with  a  girl 
friend. 

And,  as  I  said  before,  when  she  was  just  turned 
four-and-twenty,  a  sudden  thrill  shot  through  her 
heart.  The  cause  of  the  thrill  was  a  young  man,  of 
course, — it  almost  goes  without  saying.  There  was, 
if  the  truth  be  told  at  once,  a  corresponding  disturb- 
ance in  the  heart  which  beat  beneath  his  smart  frock- 
coat  ;  there  was  a  light  in  his  blue  eyes  which  found 
an  answering  shine  in  her  gray  ones ;  in  short,  these 
two,  who  had  met  and  become  acquainted  in  a  dry- 
as-dust  office  over  the  details  of  most  unsentimental 
bargains,  fell  in  love  with  each  other. 

"  Do  you  cycle,  Miss  Milvane  ?"  he  asked  some- 
what diffidently  one  day,  when  he  had  concluded  the 
business  part  of  his  conversation. 

She  brightened  up  as  a  girl  does  when  she  is  un- 
expectedly asked  about  a  favourite  pursuit. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  replied.  "  I  cycle  a  lot ;  whenever 
I  get  the  chance,  in  fact.  I  have  a  Swift, — a  beauty." 

"  I  ride  a  Beeston-H  umber,"  he  said,  very  seriously ; 
"  but  I  must  say  I've  heard  great  things  of  Swifts. 
Are  you — that  is,  would — I  mean,  are  you  ever  open 
to  a  ride  ?" 

"  I  don't  often  go  out  in  the  evening  excepting  in 


8  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

summer,"  she  replied ;  "  but  I  go  somewhere  every 
Saturday  afternoon  and  most  Sundays." 

"  Would  you  go  for  a  ride  with  me  one  day  ?"  he 
asked,  still  more  diffidently. 

"  I'd  love  to,"  she  returned  promptly. 

"Say  Saturday?"  he  suggested.  It  was  then 
Thursday,  be  it  known. 

"  I'd  like  it  immensely." 

"  Where  shall  I  come  for  you  ?" 

"I  live  at  Brixton,"  she  replied.  "I  always  go 
home  to  lunch  and  start  about  half  an  hour  after." 

"  Then  I'll  come  down  for  you.  If  I  am  there  by 
two  sharp,  will  that  suit  you  ?" 

She  replied  that  it  would  suit  her  exactly,  and  then 
he  took  down  her  address  in  his  pocket-book,  and 
they  parted,  he  going  out  of  the  dingy  office  looking 
as  pleased  as  possible,  she  remaining  behind  with 
her  brain  in  a  whirl  and  her  heart  all  aglow. 

During  that  Saturday's  ride  she  learned  a  good 
deal  about  him  and  his  belongings.  His  name,  of 
course,  she  had  known  for  a  long  time, — ever  since 
one  bright  May  morning  when  he  had  walked  into 
the  office  saying  that  he  had  an  appointment  with 
Mr.  Weaver,  the  head  of  the  firm.  She  learned  his 
Christian  name  for  the  first  time  during  that  first 
outing.  It  was  Matthew, — Matthew  Gorman.  "  My 
sisters  call  me  Matt,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  as  if  to 
see  whether  she  approved  of  the  name  or  not. 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  9 

Flo  was  discreetly  silent,  and  kept  all  her  attention 
fixed  upon  her  machine.  They  were  spinning  away 
down  a  pleasant  and  well-kept  suburban  road.  "  Jolly 
houses,  these,"  said  Matt  Gorman,  indicating  the  trim 
detached  villas  on  either  hand  by  a  gesture  of  his 
arm. 

"  Delightful !"  said  Flo.  "  But  they  mean  money, 
Mr.  Gorman." 

"  To  a  certain  extent,"  he  rejoined,  carelessly. 

Flo  Milvane  laughed.  "You  may  put  it  that 
way,"  she  said,  gaily,  "  but  to  me  such  a  house  as 
one  of  these  implies  an  income  of  so  much  and  no 
less." 

"  It  would  be  easy  enough  for  you  to  acquire  such 
an  income,  Miss  Milvane,"  he  said,  earnestly. 

"  I'd  like  to  know  how,"  she  exclaimed,  turning 
her  dark-set  gray  eyes  upon  him. 

"  It's  simple  enough, — by  marrying  a  man  who  can 
give  it  to  you.  Nothing  could  be  easier,"  he  said, 
quietly  and  yet  with  meaning. 

She  started  and  smiled.  "  Yes,  that  might  be  an 
easy  way,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  it  might  not." 

"  Easy  enough  for  you." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?"  She  felt  what  was  coming, 
and  her  fencing  was  of  a  kind  not  intended  to  ward 
off  his  next  words. 

"  Let's  rest  here  awhile,"  he  suggested.  "  There 
is  actually  a  seat."  He  caught  her  bicycle  from  her 


io  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

as  she  dropped  lightly  to  the  ground,  and  set  it  care- 
fully against  the  paling  which  skirted  the  road. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  asked  you  to  come  out  with 
me  to-day?"  he  asked.  "No?  Then  I'll  tell  you. 
I  want  you  to  marry  me.  I  know  that  you  don't 
know  me  so  very  well,  but — but  do  you  think  it's 
necessary  to  know  one  another  so  very  long  before- 
hand ?  One  glance  was  enough  for  me." 

"  Was  it  ?"  Her  tone  invited  him  to  go  on,  and 
he  took  advantage  of  it. 

"  Wasn't  it  for  you  ?  Don't  you  think  we  were 
made  for  each  other,  you  and  I  ?  I  do.  I'm  a  good 
sort  of  fellow, — we  have  a  splendid  business  in  Mul- 
lingham, — I'm  partner  with  my  father.  You  should 
have  as  good  a  house  as  any  of  these," — with  a  jerk 
of  his  head  towards  the  road  down  which  they  had 
just  come. 

She  flashed  a  look  at  him.  "  And  what  should  I, 
without  a  penny  to  my  name,  bring  to  you  ?" 

"Yourself, — your  sweet,  charming,  dainty,  dear 
little  self.  Say  yes,  only  say  yes,  and  make  me  the 
happiest  fellow  in  all  England  to-day." 

"  I — I  might  say  yes, — but  your  people,  your  father 
and  mother  ?"  she  began. , 

"  My  father  and  mother, — they  won't  interfere  with 
me,"  he  said,  confidently. 

"  If  I  say  yes,  it  must  be  conditionally  on  their 
consenting,"  she  said  at  last. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  n 

"Good!  Then  it's  the  same  thing  as  settled. 
What  day  will  you  go  down  to  see  them  ?" 

"  How  far  is  it  to  Mullingham  ?" 

"  About  four  hours  and  a  half." 

"  Because  I — how  am  I  to  leave  ?  I  don't  expect 
any  holiday  before  Christmas, — I  get  three  days 
then." 

"  Christmas !"  he  echoed  with  scorn.  "  And  this 
the  beginning  of  November !  Pooh !  I  want  to  be 
married  before  that." 

"  Before  Christmas !" 

"  Yes,  of  course ;  what's  the  good  of  wasting  time 
waiting  ?  I  want  my  wife." 

She  looked  at  him  from  under  her  long  eyelashes 
with  a  glance  of  admiration.  "  You  have  soon  made 
up  your  mind,"  she  said. 

He  drew  her  a  trifle  nearer  to  him.  "  A  man  who 
can't  make  up  his  mind  on  any  subject  sharp  is  an 
ass,"  he  replied. 

"Yes,  but " 

"  Tell  me,  haven't  you  already  made  up  yours  ?  I 
had  you  there,  sweetheart,  don't  you  think  ?  Well, 
this  is  Saturday.  I  go  home  Tuesday,  for  I  cannot 
get  through  my  business  before  then.  I  shall  write 
home  Monday, — well,  I  shall  write  really  to-morrow, 
but  post  it,  of  course,  on  Monday.  If  my  mother 
writes  to  you  by  return,  could  you  manage  to  go 
down  on  Saturday  by  the  train  from  Euston  at  one 


12  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

o'clock,  which  will  land  you  at  home  just  in  time  for 
dinner  ?" 

"And  when  could  I  get  back, — late  on  Sun- 
day?" 

"  My  people  won't  like  your  travelling  on  Sunday," 
he  said,  promptly ;  "  but  there's  a  train  that  leaves 
Mullingham  at  six  in  the  morning  which  gets  you  at 
Euston  at  half-past  ten.  I'm  afraid,  my  poor  dar- 
ling, you  will  land  at  your  office  more  dead  than 
alive,  but " 

"Not  at  all.  I've  done  the  same  thing  before, 
many  a  time." 

"  And  you  can  relieve  your  feelings  by  giving  no- 
tice," he  said,  laughing. 

"  Not  before  you  have  seen  my  mother,"  she  re- 
joined quickly  and  with  a  sudden  accession  of  dig- 
nity in  her  tones. 

He  could  not  help  smiling.  "  I  thought  you  would 
take  me  down  to  see  her  to-morrow,"  he  said,  very 
meekly. 

"  Before  your  people  have  given  their  consent  ?" 
doubtfully. 

"  My  people's  consent  is  a  foregone  conclusion," 
he  declared.  "  I  believe  there  is  a  telegraph-office 
about  a  mile  further  on.  Let  us  send  a  wire  to 
your  mother  telling  her  to  expect  us  to-morrow. 
Come." 

"I  see,"  said  Flo,  "that  from  this  time  forward 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  13 

Florence  Milvane  will  not  know  what  it  is  to  have 
any  sort  of  a  soul  of  her  own." 

"On  the  contrary,"  he  said,  quickly,  "you  will 
have  two  souls, — yours  and  mine.  Come,  let  us 
push  on.  It  is  chilly  here  for  you." 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE  STORY   OF  A   NEW   RELIGION. 

A  religion  which  was  born  and  grew  out  of  the  unsatisfied  long- 
ings of  one  bleeding  human  heart. 

As  soon  as  it  was  possible  to  do  so,  Florence 
Milvane  received  a  letter  from  Matthew  Gorman's 
mother.  It  was  written  on  the  thickest  of  paper, 
had  a  crest  or  device  in  the  corner,  and  the  address 
printed  very  clearly  in  dark-blue  letters. 

"THE  ABODE  OF  PEACE,  MULLINGHAM,  November  16,  18 — . 
"  MY  DEAR  Miss  MILVANE, — My  son  has  written  to  me  of  the 
new  relation  which  has  arisen  between  you  and  him,  and  I  hasten 
to-  assure  you  that  if  your  engagement  to  each  other  prove  to  be 
conducive  to  peace  in  our  family  circle,  I  shall  very  gladly  and  cor- 
dially welcome  you  to  our  midst.  My  son  says  there  is  a  possibility 
of  your  being  able  to  come  down  to  pay  us  a  short  visit  next  Satur- 
day. Any  arrangement  you  make  with  him  will  be  pleasant  and 
convenient  to  me.  I  will  reserve  all  further  remarks  until  we  meet, 
excepting  just  to  say  that  the  fact  of  my  son's  having  chosen  you  for 
his  wife  prepossesses  me  in  your  favour,  as  he  has  not  hitherto  been 
a  general  admirer  of  our  sex ;  and  also  the  fact  that  you  have  made 
your  consent  consequent  upon  ours  adds  greatly  to  the  feeling  that 
he  has  chosen  one  who  will  only  add  to  and  not  in  any  way  take 
from  our  circle. 

"  Cordially  yours, 

"  MARGARET  GORMAN." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  15 

The  handwriting  was  clear  and  strong,  the  calig- 
raphy  of  a  woman  of  education  and  of  natural  re- 
finement. Something  in  the  general  tone  of  the 
letter  struck  the  girl  as  forced  and  as  unusual.  And 
what  a  name  for  a  house ! — "  The  Abode  of  Peace." 
In  her  journeyings  to  and  fro  she  daily  passed 
"The  Hut,"  "The  Dove-Cot,"  "The  Cedars,"  and 
"  The  Tower  House,"  while  "  Windermere,"  "  Hu- 
onferme,"  "  Ben  Nevis,"  and  "  Merryfield"  greeted 
her  from  time  to  time  when  she  extended  her  walks 
or  rides  further  afield.  But  "  The  Abode  of  Peace !" 
It  was  on  a  level  with  "  The  Ark  of  Noah."  Of  a 
certainty  Florence  Milvane  was  not  a  little  mystified. 

Then  the  phrasing  of  the  letter  itself,  "  If  your 
engagement  to  each  other  prove  to  be  conducive  to 
peace  in  our  family  circle,"  and  so  on.  What  a 
very  curious  way  of  welcoming  her  sorts  fiancee! 
Of  course  it  was  true  that  some  young  wives  did 
make  things  "  hum"  in  their  husband's  family  in  a 
very  unpleasant  way.  She  had  known  several  in- 
stances of  girl-friends  who  had  never  seemed  able  to 
rest  until  they  had  alienated  their  husbands  from  all 
their  own  people,  but  she  made  no  doubt  that  such 
desire  had  come  upon  them  after  the  ceremony  had 
been  performed  and  not  before  it. 

On  the  Wednesday  morning  Matthew  Gorman 
came  in  to  tell  her  that  he  had  been  detained  in 
London  by  fresh  business  connected  with  the  firm 


16  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

and  to  ask  her  to  dine  with  him  and  go  to  a  theatre 
afterwards.  "  I  shall  go  down  to-morrow  by  the  one 
o'clock  train,"  he  said. 

She  was,  naturally  enough,  quite  willing  to  share 
in  the  proposed  programme,  and  when  they  had 
decided  on  both  the  place  of  dining  and  the  theatre 
that  they  would  go  to,  she  told  him  that  she  had 
had  a  letter  from  his  mother. 

"  I  thought  you  would  have.  It  was  all  right,  of 
course ;  at  least  mine  was." 

"  I'll  show  it  to  you  to-night,"  she  said,  smiling  up 
at  him.  "  And  now  do  go,  for  I'm  fearfully  busy." 

He  went  off  then,  but  was  waiting  in  the  street 
for  her  when  she  left  the  office.  He  had  already 
dressed  for  the  evening,  so  that  he  was  able  to  go 
down  to  Brixton  with  her.  As  soon  as  they  were 
settled  in  the  railway  carriage,  she  showed  him  the 
letter  which  she  had  received  from  his  mother.  He 
read  it  quickly  through,  put  it  in  the  envelope  again, 
and  gave  it  back  to  her. 

"  You  see  I  was  right,"  he  said,  smiling. 

She  hesitated  a  little.  "  Matt,"  she  said  at  last, 
"  would  you  mind — I  mean,  may  I  say,  at  least  ask 
plainly — er — is  there  something — something  unusual 
about  your  family?" 

"  Unusual !  No,  of  course  not,"  in  accents  of  pro- 
found astonishment.  "You're  thinking  that  my 
mother's  letter  is  a  bit  cold  in  tone?  She's  not  a 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  17 

gushing  woman  it's  true,  but  a  splendid  character, 
and  her  friendship  is  worth  having.  And  she  has 
gone  through  a  lot  in  her  time,  poor  dear." 

"  I  didn't  mean  that  exactly,"  said  Flo.  "  I've  no 
love  for  gush,  I  can  assure  you.  What  I  meant  was 
— well,  it's  such  a  queer  name  for  a  house,  the 
Abode  of  Peace." 

Matt  Gorman  burst  out  laughing.  "  By  Jove,"  he 
exclaimed,  "  I  forgot  to  tell  you  about  that,  you 
poor,  little,  puzzled,  mystified  thing.  Upon  my 
word,  I'm  so  happy  it  has  pretty  well  driven  every- 
thing else  out  of  my  head.  The  truth  is,  my  dar- 
ling, that  my  father  and  mother,  especially  my  father, 
are  not  church  people " 

"  Methodists  !"  she  exclaimed. 

"  No,  by  Jove ;  it  would  be  better  if  they  were. 
The  fact  is  that  many  years  ago  my  father  got  a 
great  shock — and  he  invented,  or  practically  in- 
vented, a  new  religion." 

"  Good  gracious !  And  what  do  they  call  them- 
selves ?" 

"  The  Peacemakers,"  he  answered. 

"The  Peacemakers!"  she  echoed.  "And  how 
does  it  work  ?" 

"Well,  they  have  a  little  chapel.  I  think  the 
entire  congregation  is  under  fifty  souls.  My  father 
pays  the  piper  and  generally  sets  the  tune.  There's 
a  minister,  a  nice  old  chap  who  has  seen  a  good 


i8  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

deal  of  the  storm  and  stress  of  life  and  is  thankful 
to  have  found  a  haven  of  refuge  for  the  end  of  his 
days.  His  daughter  plays  the  organ — yes,  they've 
got  an  organ ;  rather  a  nice  one ;  the  governor  gave  a 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  for  it — and  she  runs  the 
Sunday-school." 

"  And  your  sisters  ?" 

"They?  Well,  they  used  to  do  a  bit  in  the 
Sunday-school,  but  there  are  only  seven  or  eight 
children  now,  as  it  happens,  and  somehow  they 
don't  feel  active  over  it." 

"  But  what  do  they  believe — the  Peacemakers,  I 
mean  ?" 

"Upon  my  word,  I  hardly  know.  In  peace,  of 
course, — that  first  and  foremost.  You  see,  it  came 
about  in  this  way.  My  father  was  the  son  of  a 
widower,  who  married  three  times  after  my  grand- 
mother died.  Each  fresh  wife  was  worse  and  more 
interfering  and  quarrelsome  than  the  last  one,  and 
when,  at  last,  wife  No.  4  succeeded  in  breaking  off 
my  father's  engagement  to  the  girl  of  his  heart,  he 
came  to  a  way  of  thinking  that  if  only  a  poor  soul 
could  have  peace  everything  in  life  would  be  easy. 
The  girl  married  somebody  else  and  died  early,  and 
after  that  my  father  came  in  for  his  father's  business 
and  the  bulk  of  his  property,  and  he  founded  the 
sect  of  the  Peacemakers." 

"  Does  it  work  ?"  asked  Flo. 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  19 

"  In  a  way,  yes.  The  old  man  is  happy  enough, 
and  my  mother,  who  joined  the  sect  years  ago,  be- 
fore she  was  married,  lives  up  to  all  his  principles 
both  in  letter  and  spirit.  For  myself,  I'm  so  used  to 
the — the — every-day  habit  of  it  all  that  I  think  no 
more  about  it  than  church  people  think  of  themselves 
as  miserable  sinners,  unless — that  is — something  calls 
it  especially  to  mind." 

"  Then  you  are  a  Peacemaker  by  birth  and  habit, 
not  by  conviction,"  she  suggested. 

"  Exactly  so ;  and,  therefore,  I  don't  think  very 
much  about  it  one  way  or  another.  Of  course,  you 
know,  there's  nothing  so  red-hot  as  a  Vert  to  any 
faith." 

They  reached  Brixton  Station  then,  so  did  not 
pursue  the  subject  further.  Flo,  her  curiosity  being 
satisfied,  was  not  very  keenly  interested.  She  was 
young,  she  was  very  much  in  love,  and  she  was  on 
the  eve  of  making  what  for  her  circumstances  was  a 
brilliant  marriage.  She  was  very  soon  going  to  for- 
get that  she  had  ever  lived  on  fifty  shillings  a  week, 
— she  was  going  to  be  well  off,  to  have  a  seal-skin 
jacket  and  several  servants.  All  the  old  pinching 
days  of  work  and  comparative  poverty  would  soon 
be  at  an  end ;  and  in  the  happy  prospect  of  an  afflu- 
ent career  with  Matt  Gorman  she  was  not  minded 
to  search  very  closely  for  the  pea  of  discord  which 
might  be  found  under  eleven  mattresses,  as  was  found 


20  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

by  the  princess  in  the  old  fairy-tale.  If  Matt's  father 
and  mother  liked  to  indulge  themselves  in  a  religion 
all  of  their  own,  particularly  such  a  very  mild  and 
harmless  one  as  theirs  seemed  to  be,  why,  it  did  not 
hurt  anyone  else,  and  would  hurt  her  least  of  all. 
Indeed,  although  a  very  good  little  churchwoman 
who  scarcely  ever  missed  a  Sunday  morning  service, 
she  made  up  her  mind  that,  if  it  would  please  them 
for  her  to  become  a  Peacemaker,  she  would  join  the 
new  sect  from  the  day  of  her  marriage, — yes,  that 
she  would.  And  as  she  dressed  in  haste  a  mist  of 
tears  came  before  her  eyes  at  the  thought  of  the 
broken  hearts  upon  which  the  religion  of  the  Peace- 
makers had  been  founded, — the  wonderful  faith  which 
had  been  built  upon  a  foundation  of  pain. 


CHAPTER   III. 

A   PLUNGE   INTO   A   STRANGE  WORLD. 

One  of  the  most  curious  sensations  in  life  is  that  which  a  young 
woman  experiences  when  she  first  goes  to  be  inspected  by  her  future 
husband's  near  relations. 

IT  was  with  strangely  mingled  feelings  that  Flor- 
ence Milvane  left  Euston  the  following  Saturday  at 
one  o'clock  that  she  might  go  down  to  Mullingham 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  her  future  husband's 
family.  It  was,  in  the  first  place,  a  dreadful  ordeal 
for  a  girl  to  undergo, — to  make  a  visit  for  the  pur- 
pose of  being  inspected.  In  the  second  place,  she 
was  hardly,  as  yet,  well  enough  used  to  Matt  to  feel 
really  at  ease.  And  to  be  with  him  among  a  wholly 
strange  family  who  all  knew  him  extremely  well 
rendered  the  situation  still  more  appalling.  How- 
ever, Matt  himself  appeared  at  the  last  stopping-place, 
some  twenty-five  miles  on  the  London  side  of  Mul- 
lingham, and  Matt  looked  so  smart  and  nice  in  his 
country  clothes,  and  was,  moreover,  so  unfeignedly 
delighted  to  see  her,  that  she  straightway  forgot  her 
fears  and  gave  herself  up  to  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
him  again. 

Some  of  the  qualms  came  back  again  as  they  ran 


22  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

into  Mullingham  Station,  and  when  Matt,  looking 
out  of  the  window,  said, — 

"  Hollo !  there's  Polly  on  the  platform, — and  Matty. 
I  do  call  that  decent  of  them."  She  looked  eagerly 
out  to  see  two  tall,  stylish-looking  girls  eagerly  scan- 
ning the  windows  of  the  carriages. 

"  There  he  is,"  she  heard  one  say  to  the  other 
amid  shouts  of  "  Mull'gham,  Mull'gham,"  and  the 
next  minute  they  had  rushed  to  the  door  and  were 
trying  to  open  it. 

"  Here  you  are,"  called  out  one  in  a  loud,  hearty 
voice.  "  We  were  so  afraid  you  would  miss  the  train 
or  something,"  cried  the  other.  "Welcome  to  Mul- 
lingham," cried  the  two,  as  Flo  reached  the  plat- 
form. 

She  was  small  and  slight  and  they  were  tall  and 
well  grown,  and  she  seemed  to  disappear  under  the 
overpowering  warmth  of  their  welcome.  "  You  are 
a  dear  little  thing,"  exclaimed  Matty.  "  And  we  are 
so  glad  to  see  you.  You  look  after  her  luggage  and 
we'll  go  straight  to  the  carriage.  Yes,"  as  they  led 
her  off, — "you  don't  know  how  glad  we  are  that 
Matt  isn't  going  to  marry  a  Mullingham  girl.  We 
don't  know  one  that  we  should  really  like." 

"  One,"  corrected  Polly. 

"Amy?  Well,  yes;  we  shouldn't  have  minded 
Amy,  but  she  is  engaged  to  some  one  else,  and  be- 
sides that,  Matt  never  could  bear  her.  There  are 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.         .  23 

plenty  of  nice  girls  in  Mullingham, — oh,  yes,  heaps 
of  them, — but  not  to  be  sisters-in-law  somehow." 

"  I  always  think  it's  better  to  marry  away  from 
one's  own  place,  and  then  families  don't  get  to  quar- 
relling over  the  young  couple's  affairs,"  Polly  chimed 
in.  "  This  way — yes,  that's  the  carriage.  John,  this 
is  Miss  Milvane.  He's  been  with  us  twenty  years, 
so  speak  to  him,"  she  added  in  a  loud  whisper  to 
Flo. 

Flo  at  once  put  out  her  hand  to  the  old  coach- 
man. "  How  do  you  do  ?"  she  said  in  her  sweet 
voice. 

"  You're  right  welcome,  miss,"  said  John,  touching 
his  hat,  and  then  taking  the  proffered  hand.  "  The 
Lord  shed  His  blessings  on  you,  miss,  and  give  you 
peace  in  all  your  life.  Mr.  Matthew's  a  rare  fine  fel- 
low, miss ;  I've  known  him  twenty  years." 

Flo  felt  inclined  to  choke,  and  hardly  knew  what 
to  say.  Matty,  however,  being  better  used  to  the 
ways  of  the  Peacemakers, — for  John  was  a  confirmed 
Peacemaker, — relieved  the  situation  easily  enough. 

"  Ah,  you  always  spoil  Mr.  Matthew,  John ;  but  it's 
a  shame  to  show  your  partiality  as  you  do.  You 
wouldn't  say  as  much  for  any  of  your  young  ladies. 
Now,  Flo  dear,  get  in,  and  we'll  get  in  with  you  till 
Matt  comes." 

"  Till  Matt  comes  ?"  Flo  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  of  course.     Why,  you  don't  suppose  we  are 


24  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

such  idiots  as  to  drive  home  with  you  ?  Good  gra- 
cious, what  do  you  take  us  for  ?" 

"  Of  course  you  will.     Is  it  far — your  house  ?" 

"  A  mile  or  so ;  we  shall  be  there  almost  as  soon 
as  you  will.  Besides,  we  have  something  to  do  in 
the  town." 

"  The  carriage  can  stop,"  said  Flo,  eagerly.  She 
felt  instinctively  that  her  entrance  into  the  domestic 
circle  would  be  easier  if  these  two  fine  outspoken 
girls  were  with  her. 

"  And  earn  Matt's  hatred  for  ever.    Oh,  here  he  is." 

"  Matt,"  said  Flo,  eagerly,  "  your  sisters  want  to 
walk — just  because  I'm  here." 

"  Oh,  they  needn't  do  that,"  he  replied. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Matty,  "  I  assure  you  we  never 
get  into  the  old  tub  if  we  can  help  it.  Go  along 
with  Matt,  you  dear,  unselfish  little  thing,  and  don't 
waste  a  thought  upon  us.  What  you  mustn't  waste 
is  time,  for  mother  is  very  anxious  to  see  you." 

Flo  caught  hold  of  her  future  sister-in-law's  hand. 
"  Matty,"  she  said,  earnestly,  "  do  you  think  she'll 
like  me  ?" 

"  Yes, — and  you  will  like  her.  She's  sweet,  sweet. 
Oh," — in  an  almost  fierce  whisper, — "  that's  no  word 
for  mother.  She's  a  saint,  if  ever  one  trod  the  earth." 

The  significance  of  her  tone  struck  the  girl,  who 
was  a  stranger,  as  with  a  flash  of  pain ;  but  before 
she  could  speak  Matt  touched  her  arm,  saying, 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  25 

"Now,  if  you  are  quite  ready,  dearest;"  and  the 
next  moment  she  found  herself  in  the  carriage,  which 
immediately  rolled  away  from  the  blazing  station 
lights  into  the  comparative  darkness  of  the  gas-lit 
road. 

She  realized  long  before  she  got  to  the  Abode  of 
Peace  that  it  was  a  good  deal  more  than  a  mile  from 
the  station.  It  seemed  a  very  long  time  before  Matt 
said, "  Ah,  here  we  are,"  and  the  carriage  was  stopped 
that  the  entrance-gates  might  be  opened. 

And  then  a  curious  little  ceremony  was  gone 
through.  A  bright-faced  woman  came  to  the  door 
of  the  carriage,  saying,  in  a  solemn  voice,  "  Peace  be 
on  you,"  to  which  Matt  replied  in  a  cheery  tone, 
"And  on  you  also."  Then  the  carriage  rolled  on 
into  the  darkness  of  a  longish  avenue. 

Arrived  at  the  house  itself,  Flo  was  cheered  by  the 
streams  of  light  which  flooded  out  upon  them.  A 
gray-haired  butler  came  down  the  wide  steps  as  they 
drew  up,  and  opened  the  door  with  the  same  solemn 
yet  comforting  greeting,  "  Peace  be  on  you." 

"  And  on  you  also,"  Matt  replied ;  then  added, 
"  This  is  the  future  Mrs.  Matthew,  William." 

"Welcome  to  the  Abode,  miss,"  said  William. 
"  The  mistress  has  been  rare  and  anxious, — there  she 
is,  Mr.  Matthew." 

To  her  dying  day  Flo  knew  that  she  would  never 
forget  her  first  sight  of  Matthew  Gorman's  mother. 


26  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

She  came  out  to  the  door  quickly  yet  without 
hurry. 

"  Is  that  you,  Matthew  ?"  she  said,  softly.  "  Have 
you  brought  her  ?  Ah,  yes.  Welcome  to  the  Abode 
of  Peace,  my  dear,"  she  said,  and  drew  the  girl  into 
the  full  light  of  the  large  and  handsome  hall.  After 
a  single  glance  at  the  girl's  fair,  sensitive  face,  she 
put  both  her  arms  round  her  and  kissed  her  very 
kindly.  "  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear,  I  see  you  with  my 
boy's  eyes !  May  this  prove  an  Abode  of  Peace  to 
you  all  the  days  of  your  life ;  but" — her  voice  sink- 
ing to  a  bare  whisper — "  let  it  be  an  abode  of  real 
peace, — real,  true,  peaceful  peace.  I  can  wish  you 
nothing  better." 

Then  she  released  her,  and,  still  keeping  fast  hold 
of  her  hand,  she  drew  her  across  the  large  hall. 
"  Come,"  she  said,  gently,  "  your  father  is  in  the 
library." 

Flo  went  unresistingly.  She  was  not  a  little  awed 
by  the  continual  reiteration  of  the  watchword  of  the 
Peacemakers.  It  affected  her  as  she  might  have  been 
affected  by  some  solemn  ritual  or  by  some  semi- 
sacred  play,  and,  as  yet,  it  seemed  impossible  for  her 
to  realize  that  Matt  and  his  sisters  were  one  and  the 
same  family  as  Mrs.  Gorman  and  her  dependants. 

Perhaps  some  noise  of  their  arrival  had  penetrated 
to  the  library,  which  she  afterwards  found  was  Mr. 
Gorman's  particular  sanctum,  for  as  they  crossed  the 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  27 

hall  the  door  opened  and  he  appeared  upon  the 
threshold. 

He  was  very  tall  and  spare,  a  man  of  over  sixty 
years  old,  dark-eyed  and  eagle-faced,  with  a  mass  of 
snow-white  hair  crowning  him.  As  they  approached 
he  raised  both  his  hands  in  solemn  benediction. 
"  The  Lord's  peace  be  upon  you  all,"  he  said,  in  a 
deep,  sonorous  voice ;  then,  as  his  hands  fell,  he  held 
them  out  towards  her  in  welcome.  "  I  am  glad  to 
see  you ;  you  are  most  welcome  to  my  house." 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  murmured  Flo,  Her 
words  sounded  desperately  commonplace  to  her  own 
ears  by  comparison  with  the  picturesque  unusualness 
of  the  style  of  greeting  which  had  met  her  in  this 
new  circle.  Somewhat — nay,  I  should  say  not  a 
little — to  her  relief,  she  found  that  the  solemn  tone 
and  stilted  phraseology  were  not  continuously  kept 
up  when  once  the  benedictory  greetings  were  over, 
but  that  the  elder  members  of  the  family  relapsed 
into  more  ordinary  forms  of  conversation,  Mrs.  Gor- 
man becoming  entirely  everyday  in  tone,  though  the 
old  gentleman  still  retained  a  few  traces  of  his  old- 
fashioned  formality. 

"  Bring  her  to  the  morning-room,  Matthew,"  said 
Mrs.  Gorman.  "  The  tea  is  waiting  there.  The  poor 
child  must  be  famished  after  so  long  a  journey.  Are 
you  coming  with  us,  father?" 

"  Surely,"  he  replied ;  and  added,  as  they  passed 


28  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

through  the  hall,  "  I,  too,  want  to  see  something  of 
Matthew's  choice, — the  girl  of  his  heart." 

At  this  Matt  laughed  and  caught  hold  of  her 
hand.  And  Flo  laughed  too,  a  laugh  of  such  utter 
happiness  that  Mrs.  Gorman  turned  and  looked  at 
her. 

"  Mrs.  Gorman,  don't  you  feel  well  ?"  Flo  asked. 
"  You  are  so  pale." 

"  Am  I  ?"  and  she  put  up  her  hand  to  her  face  as 
if  she  could  tell  by  touching  it  whether  it  was  white 
or  not  "  Oh,  it  is  nothing.  I  am  not  always 
strong,  and  I  am  naturally  without  colour.  Shall  I 
make  your  tea  ?  Cream  and  sugar  ?" 

"  Yes,  both,  please,"  Flo  answered.  "  I  am  not 
new-fashioned  enough  to  do  without  sugar,  though 
sometimes  I  feel  desperately  dowdy  when  I  confess 
to  liking  two  lumps." 

"  I  should  dislike  any  one  who  gave  up  sugar 
because  it  was  the  fashion,"  said  Mrs.  Gorman,  de- 
cidedly. "  Try  some  of  those  little  sandwiches,  dear, 
— it  wants  more  than  two  hours  to  dinner-time,  and 
you  must  be  hungry." 

"  Yes,  try  some  of  them, — egg  and  chickweed," 
laughed  Matt,  "  with  some  curious  flavouring  intro- 
duced which  makes  you  fancy  they  are  anchovy  or 
caviare  or  something  of  that.  I  tell  my  mother  that 
she  is  a  perpetual  fraud  in  the  way  of  cooking." 

Thus  bidden,  Flo   did  try  the   sandwiches   and 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  29 

found  them  excellent.  In  truth,  she  was  hungry, 
and  it  was  no  small  relief  to  find  that  hunger  was 
not  considered  a  sin  in  the  Abode  of  Peace.  She 
had  just  taken  her  third  one  when  the  door  was 
thrown  open  with  a  jerk,  and  two  girls,  whom  she 
had  not  seen  before,  came  in.  "  We  passed  Polly 
and  Matty  on  the  road  just  now,"  one  said.  "  Peace 
be  with  you  father,  dear. — How  do  you  do  ?  We 
are  to  call  you  Flo  straight  off,  of  course.  Very 
glad  to  see  you,"  kissing  her  rather  boisterously. 
"  Hope  you'll  like  us  and  be  happy  among  us. 
Darling  mother,"  dropping  a  light  kiss  upon  the 
heavy  braids  which  crowned  her  mother's  head, 
"  here  is  your  silk ;  the  best  match  Miss  Glover  had. 
If  it  won't  do,  she  will  have  to  send  to  London  for 
it." 

"  Thank  you,  dear  child.  Flo,  this  is  our  youngest 
girl,  Rachel.  And  this  is  Beth.  Now  you  have 
seen  us  all,  for  I  suppose  Polly  and  Matty  came  to 
meet  you." 

"Yes,  and  would  walk  home  when  there  was 
plenty  of  room  in  the  carriage,"  replied  Flo,  vexedly. 

Mrs.  Gorman  smiled.  "  Ah,  well,  they  are  young 
and  like  exercise,"  she  said,  indulgently,  and  then 
Flo  saw  her  glance  over  to  the  tall  old  man  on  the 
other  side  of  the  well-kept  fireplace. 

Rachel  Gorman  was  the  only  one  of  the  five  chil- 
dren who  in  any  way  resembled  her  father.  Matt 


3o  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

and  his  three  sisters,  Polly,  Matty,  and  Beth,  were 
all  of  the  same  blond  complexion  as  their  mother. 
In  the  case  of  Matt  this  complexion  was  consider- 
ably browned  by  exposure,  and  the  faces  of  the 
girls  were  tinged  with  a  charming  apple-blossom 
pink,  evidently  just  what  their  mother  had  possessed 
at  their  age.  But  Rachel  was  quite  unlike  them, 
being  very  much  taller  than  any  of  her  sisters,  dark- 
haired  and  dark-eyed,  with  a  brilliant  colour  like  a 
blush  rose.  She  was  the  only  one  of  them  all  who 
was  conspicuously  slight  like  a  willow  wand,  and  in 
her  cycling  skirt  she  looked  even  taller  than  she 
might  otherwise  have  done.  She  had  a  fascinating 
trick  of  turning  her  head  and  setting  it  a  little  side- 
ways in  a  way  which  showed  her  long  slender  throat 
off  to  perfection.  "  Oh,  Matt,"  Flo  whispered  sud- 
denly to  her  sweetheart,  as  they  all  made  a  move  to 
their  own  rooms,  "  how  could  you  look  at  me  when 
you  have  such  a  sister  as  that  ?" 

"  Do  you  mean  Rachel  ?"  he  asked,  in  genuine 
surprise.  "  Well,  of  course,  a  man  cannot  marry  his 
sister,  no  matter  what  she  happens  to  be  like ;  and, 
between  ourselves,  I  don't  admire  gawky  girls  at 
all." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

JOHN   STRODE. 

Sometimes  the  presence  of  a  stranger  in  a  family  gathering  comes 
as  a  distinct  relief. 

THE  four  sisters  in  a  body  escorted  Flo  to  her  bed- 
room. "  Now  you  need  not  feel  lonely,"  said  Matty, 
"  because  your  room  is  next  to  dear  mother's ;  Polly 
and  I  have  rooms  on  your  other  side,  and  Beth  and 
Rachel  are  just  opposite.  This  is  not  the  very  best 
room,  but  you  must  not  think  that  we  meant  any 
slight  not  to  have  given  you  that.  It  is  right  away 
at  the  further  end  of  the  corridor,  and  mother 
thought  you  might  be  lonely  there.  We  generally 
give  this  room  to  girl  visitors  because  they  like  to 
be  near  us." 

Flo  looked  around  the  spacious  room,  at  the 
cheerful  fire  blazing  in  the  bright  steel  grate,  the 
delicately  tinted  rose-lined  draperies  of  windows  and 
bed,  at  the  soft  rose-strewn  carpet,  the  pretty,  con- 
venient white  enamelled  furniture,  the  little  dainty 
odds  and  ends  in  all  parts  of  the  room.  Then  with 
a  sudden  gush  of  feeling  she  caught  Matty's  hand. 

"  Oh !"  she  cried,  "  do  you  think  I've  come  down 
here  to  carp  and  pick  holes  ?  Has  Matt  told  you 


32  THE    PEACEMAKERS. 

everything  ?  That  I  earn  my  own  living  in  an  office 
and  live  in  cheap  lodgings  with  another  girl  ?  Has 
he  told  you  all  ?" 

"  Well,  I  think  he  has,"  said  Matty,  "  and,  of 
course,  we  would  wish,  and  especially  mother  would 
wish,  to  do  you  all  the  honour  we  can.  Of  course 
we  admire  you  very  much  for  earning  your  own 
living,  and  all  that.  We  couldn't  do  it  ourselves. 
You  see,  we  have  always  been  rich  and  never  had  to 
think  of  those  things,  but  if  we  had  to  turn  out  we 
should  make  a  mighty  poor  try  at  it,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Awful,"  chimed  in  Beth. 

"As  for  your  living  in  lodgings  and  having  no 
fortune,  what's  that  to  us  ?  You  are  Matt's  choice, 
and  a  very  good  choice,  too,  and  a  lucky  day  for 
Matt  when  you  fell  in  love  with  each  other." 

"For  Matt!"  echoed  Flo,  pausing  in  her  work 
of  laying  out  her  dress  for  the  evening. 

"  Yes,  for  Matt.  We  are  rich  and  respectable  and 
all  that,  but  we're  not  everybody's  money,  and  we 
know  it,  far  better  than  anybody  who  can  tell  us." 

"  But  why  ?" 

"  My  dear,"  Matty  cried,  "  it  wants  but  twenty 
minutes  to  dinner,  and  I  have  laced  boots  on.  Let 
us  discuss  our  respective  merits  at  a  more  con- 
venient season.  Is  anybody  coming  to  dinner  ?" 

"  Yes, — Mr.  Strode,"  answered  Beth,  as  she  hurried 
away. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  33 

"  Mr.  Strode !  My  poor  child,  I'm  so  sorry.  I 
suppose  he  was  asked  before  we  heard  of  your 
coming.  He  has  to  be  invited  sometimes  for  busi- 
ness reasons,  and  he  would  like  to  marry  Rachel." 

"  You  needn't  remind  me,  Matty,"  cried  Rachel, 
furiously,  the  blush  rose  of  her  cheeks  deepening  to 
a  flaming  colour  and  her  dark  eyes  flashing  fire. 

"  I  alluded  to  it  as  your  misfortune,"  laughed 
Matty ;  but  Rachel  had  flown  out  of  the  room,  shut- 
ting the  door  behind  her  with  a  crash. 

"  Poor  Rachel,  she's  very  tender  on  the  subject  of 
Mr.  Strode.  If  you  want  to  put  her  in  a  boiling 
passion,  you've  only  got  to  say  Rachel  Strode  to  do 
it.  Well,  I'm  off.  By-by." 

Flo  Milvane  dressed  herself  in  a  maze  of  wonder- 
ment. What  did  Matty  mean  by  saying  that  they 
were  not  everybody's  money  ?  And  for  the  Abode 
of  Peace,  how  odd  to  give  a  newcomer  into  the  family 
a  recipe  for  putting  one  of  them  into  a  boiling 
passion.  And  what  was  the  meaning  of  that  curious, 
wistful,  strained,  questioning  look  on  Mrs.  Gorman's 
pale  face,  the  face  which  was  refined  and  had  been 
very  pretty  once,  but  which  had  such  an  unnaturally 
bleached  look  ?  It  was  all  very  strange,  but  as  she 
put  the  last  touches  to  her  toilette  a  remembrance 
of  Matthew  came  to  her,  dear  Matt,  rich,  clever, 
stalwart,  and  simple,  and  she  forgot  to  wonder  any 
more. 

3 


34  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

Flo  had  not  made  any  great  attempt  at  evening 
dress.  She  wore  her  best  black  skirt,  a  silk  one 
bought  at  one  of  the  many  sales  in  Regent  Street, 
and  with  it  a  smart  high  blouse  of  soft  rose-coloured 
material.  This  had  been  bought  specially  on  the 
previous  day  after  leaving  the  office,  and  was  a 
smarter  thing  of  its  kind  than  she  had  ever  indulged 
herself  in  before.  It  had  many  tucks  and  puffs  and 
gatherings,  and  suited  her  fair  slight  prettiness  to 
perfection. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  had  hesitated  some  little 
time  between  this  and  a  black  one  made  on  similar 
lines,  and  more  than  once  after  her  choice  had  been 
made  she  had  almost  regretted  it,  fearing  that  it  was 
too  dressy.  She  found,  however,  on  entering  the 
drawing-room  at  the  Abode  of  Peace,  that  she  need 
have  had  no  fears  on  that  score.  All  the  girls  were 
in  evening  dress,  their  bodices  cut  low  and  their 
sleeves  reaching  to  the  elbow.  Mrs.  Gorman  was 
wearing  a  handsome  brown  velvet  gown  trimmed 
about  the  square-cut  bodice  with  rich  old  lace,  and 
on  her  bosom  a  few  diamonds  twinkled  brilliantly. 
Matt  came  in  immediately,  wearing  a  theatre  jacket, 
and  soon  after  the  old  gentleman  made  his  appear- 
ance too,  but  wearing  a  swallow-tail  and  a  shirt 
frill. 

"John  Strode  is  late,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  taking 
out  his  watch. 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  35 

"  I  hear  his  cart,"  returned  Matt,  bending  his  head 
to  listen. 

A  minute  or  two  later  the  door  opened,  and 
William  ushered  in  the  visitor. 

"  The  Lord's  peace  be  on  you,"  said  the  master  of 
the  house,  solemnly. 

"  And  on  you,  my  friend,"  was  the  reply,  "  and  on 
all  your  household.  How  are  you?  Pretty  fit,  I 
hope.  Mrs.  Gorman,  I  hope  I  see  you  well.  Miss 
Matty,  you  are  blooming  as  a  rose.  Miss  Rachel, 
peace  be  on  you."  He  held  out  his  hand  to  the  girl, 
who  was  standing  near  to  the  fireplace,  and  she 
unwillingly  laid  hers  in  it.  "  Peace  be  on  you,"  he 
repeated. 

"  And  on  you  also,"  she  replied  in  a  tone  so  rude 
and  brusque  that  Flo  Milvane  opened  her  eyes  wide 
with  astonishment,  and  a  suppressed  giggle  behind 
her  betrayed  the  fact  that  the  other  members  of  the 
family  were  not  blind  to  what  was  going  on.  Then 
Rachel  snatched  away  her  hand  with  an  expression 
on  her  face  in  which  peace  was  wholly  lacking. 

"  Dinner  is  served.  Let  it  be  eaten  in  peace,"  an- 
nounced William  in  a  loud  voice  at  this  moment,  and 
Flo  turned  to  lay  her  hand  on  Mr.  Gorman's  arm 
with  a  deeper  sense  of  relief  than  she  had  ever  known 
what  it  was  to  experience  in  all  her  life  before. 

The  dining-room  was  a  large  and  finely  propor- 
tioned apartment  severely  furnished  in  yellow  oak, 


36  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

which  matched  the  doors,  the  skirtings,  and  the  tall 
chimney-shelf.  The  chairs  were  cushioned  with  deep 
red  leather,  and  had  very  tall,  high  backs.  She  per- 
ceived that  the  family  custom  was  for  each  person  to 
stand  behind  their  chair  and  to  rest  the  hands  upon 
the  back  thereof  while  grace  was  uttered  by  the  head 
of  the  house.  As  a  grace  it  certainly  had  to  Flo  the 
attraction  of  novelty. 

"  The  Lord  gave  this  food  for  our  good ;  let  us 
eat  it  in  thankfulness  and  peace." 

Flo  was  not  a  little  awed  by  the  sight  of  the  tall, 
picturesque  old  man,  in  his  semi-old-world  attire, 
standing  with  hands  outstretched  in  benediction  over 
the  elegantly  arranged  table,  and  it  was  with  a  sharp 
shock  that  her  eyes  next  fell  upon  Rachel  Gorman's 
darkly  mutinous  glances  at  the  visitor  whom  she  had 
contrived  to  balk  by  putting  the  entire  length  of 
the  table  between  them. 

She  stole  a  look  at  Mr.  Strode  then  to  see  whether 
he  was  much  upset  by  this  manoeuvre,  but  apparently 
he  had  expected  nothing  else,  for  he  was  talking  al- 
ready to  Mrs.  Gorman  as  if  his  interest  in  the  young- 
est of  her  daughters  was  no  more  than  in  any  other 
member  of  the  family. 

I  have  not  explained  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gorman 
occupied  the  two  centre  seats  at  the  table,  so  that 
Mr.  Gorman  was  able  to  talk  a  good  deal  to  the 
guest,  and  Flo  was  thus  left  free  to  devote  most  of 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  37 

her  attention  to  her  fiance.  She  was  also  able  to 
hear  most  of  Mr.  Strode's  conversation. 

"  Awful  brute,  isn't  he  ?"  murmured  Matt  in  her  ear. 

"  Is  he  so  bad  ?"  whispered  Flo  back  again. 

"  Yes,  most  emphatically  yes,"  was  Matt's  vigorous 
reply. 

Flo  made  no  rejoinder,  but  all  the  same  she  had 
expected  a  very  much  worse  specimen  than  this  John 
Strode.  He  was  not  old  or  fat,  nor  did  he  misuse 
his  aspirates ;  his  garments  were  as  well  cut  as  Matt's, 
and  his  person  was  thoroughly  well  groomed  and 
refulgent  with  cleanliness.  He  had  no  particular 
display  of  jewelry  beyond  one  little  diamond  in  his 
shirt-stud  and  a  plain  gold  signet  ring  on  one  hand. 
He  had  not  $ven  a  locket  on  his  watch-chain.  His 
voice  was  not  unpleasant,  though  he  pronounced  one 
or  two  words  in  an  irritatingly  peculiar  fashion. 

At  last,  however,  she  received  a  clue,  for  Mr. 
Strode  happened  to  mention  a  certain  Major  O'Reilly, 
on  which  Mr.  Gorman  said  promptly  that  he  was  a 
person  of  whom  he  had  no  opinion. 

"  An  irredeemable  scamp,"  chimed  in  Matt,  from 
his  place  on  the  other  side  of  Flo. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  John  Strode,  pursing  up 
his  lips.  "  Major  O'Reilly  must  be  a  hundred-thou- 
sand-pound man  at  least.  He  has  a  good  deal  of 
influence.  Not,  of  course,  that  money  always  does 
it.  There's  Harry  de  Kloof, — worth  half  a  million 


38  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

at  least,  and  the  county  won't  have  him  because  of 
that  little  affair  about  those  diamonds.  But  it  seems 
a  shame,  doesn't  it  ?" 

"  What  was  that  ?"  whispered  Flo  to  Matt.  Matt 
looked  up.  "  Harry  de  Kloof  is  another  of  the  same 
sort,  or  worse,"  he  said,  coolly.  "  Get  money :  get 
it  honestly  if  you  can,  but — get  money.  By  the 
way,  what  was  the  right  story  about  those  diamonds  ?" 

Thus  started,  John  Strode  launched  forth  promptly 
into  the  true  story  of  Harry  de  Kloof  and  the  dia- 
monds. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   STORY   OF  THE   DIAMONDS. 

The  wise  man  to  whom  we  owe  the  Book  of  Proverbs  tells  us 
that  the  price  of  a  virtuous  woman  is  far  above  rubies.  How  many 
a  woman's  virtue  has  come  to  grief  over  diamonds ! 

"WELL,  now,  I  have  always  rather  pitied  poor 
Harry  in  that  matter,"  he  said,  confidentially.  "  Yes, 
reelly.  After  all,  business  is  business,  and  when 
ladies  take  to  doing  shady  things  I  can't  see  that 
they  ought  to  get  off  scot-free  because  they  happen 
to  be  called  '  Your  Ladyship.'  And,  after  all,  poor 
Harry  did  no  more  than  he  was  well  within  his  right 
in  doing, — he  didn't,  reelly." 

"  Yes,  but,"  persisted  Matt,  "  what  was  the  story  ? 
I  have  only  a  confused  sort  of  remembrance  of  it." 

"  It  was  like  this.  Lady  Mullingham — the  Count- 
ess, you  know — is  rather  a  go-ahead  little  lady,  who 
married  the  Earl  more  for  his  position  and  money 
than  anything  else.  She  was  the  daughter  of  an 
Irish  peer,  very  pretty  and  a  great  flirt,  and  they  did 
say  she  was  over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  some 
fellow  in  the  Lancers,  and  that  her  family  wouldn't 
let  her  have  him.  So,  in  a  sort  of  half-huff,  half- 
desperation,  she  took  the  next  good  match  that  hap- 
pened to  come  along,  and  that  was  Lord  Mulling- 

39 


40  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

ham,  just  twenty  years  older  than  she  was,  but  the 
Earl  of  Mullingham  and  what  seemed  like  the  riches 
of  Croesus  to  her,  who  had  never  had  the  spending 
of  too  much  at  a  time.  Of  course,  he  did  not  know 
anything  about  the  fellow  in  the  Lancers,  and  was 
awfully  smitten  with  her,  and  he  indulged  her  in 
everything  she  wanted.  And  she  wanted  more  and 
more  every  day.  Her  dresses,  her  jewels,  her  whims 
and  caprices  simply  ran  money  away  like  water.  She 
seemed  just  reckless,  as  if  she  did  not  care  what  she 
spent.  I've  seen  her  chuck  down  her  sable  cloak, 
that  cost  nine  hundred  guineas,  as  if  it  was  an  old 
rag  that  hadn't  cost  a  guinea !  I  have,  reelly.  Well, 
this,  as  you  all  must  remember,  went  on  for  four  or 
five  years.  Lord,  how  she  made  the  money  fly! 
All  her  toilet  services  were  of  the  finest  Worcester 
china,  decorated  with  her  coronet  and  cipher  en- 
twined in  wealth  of  roses  and  forget-me-nots,  and 
cost  fifteen  guineas  a  set.  All  her  own  room  was 
furnished  with  the  same  idea.  Her  name  was  Rosa- 
mund. She  had  great  artists  down  from  London  to 
paint  her  ceilings,  and  her  doors,  and  white  enam- 
elled wardrobes  and  things;  the  carpets  were  like 
soft  moss  strewn  with  roses  you  could  pick  up.  I 
saw  them  at  Moorman's  before  they  were  sent  to  the 
Castle,  and  they  cost  fifty  guineas  each,  and  everything 
else  was  done  in  the  same  way.  She  had  at  least 
half  a  dozen  bicycles  enamelled  to  match  the  dress 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  41 

she  might  happen  to  be  wearing.  The  best  horses, 
the  finest  hunters,  the  smartest  ponies,  prize  cats,  the 
champion  Great  Dane,  and,  in  short,  she  went  the 
pace, — just  tremendous.  And  at  last  the  Earl  pulled 
up  short  and  said  she'd  have  to  draw  in  her  horns  a 
bit.  Of  course,  he  was  master,  he  paid  the  piper, 
and  for  several  years — that  is,  ever  since  he  married 
her — she  chose  the  tune,  and  when  he  did  pull  her 
up  short  she  did  not  dare  tell  him  what  her  liabilities 
reelly  amounted  to.  For  a  bit  she  tried  spending  a 
little  less,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  make  believe 
that  over-dressing  was  vulgar,  and  to  use  all  her 
pretty  face  and  her  influence  to  what  she  called  the 
revival  of  simplicity.  Lord  love  you  !  she  even  got 
up  a  league  and  called  it  the  Guild  of  Simplicity,  and 
took  to  wearing  plain  black  gowns  and  plain  black 
sailor  hats,  with  a  neat  little  bonnet,  like  a  Puritan, 
for  grand  occasions.  But  it  did  not  catch  on  much, 
and  the  dressmakers  took  to  threatening  her.  She 
had  five  hundred  a  year  pin-money,  but  five  hundred 
a  year  don't  go  far  when  you  owe  fifteen  thousand, 
and  her  ladyship  soon  found  herself  in  desperate 
straits  and  didn't  know  which  way  to  turn.  She  was 
afraid  to  ask  the  Earl  for  any  more,  for  he  was  get- 
ting a  bit  off  and  not  quite  so  infatuated  with  her  as 
he  had  been,  and  they  do  say  that  he  dropped  down 
to  it  that  she  didn't  care  a  button  for  him.  And  it 
was  then  that  she  bethought  herself  of  Harry  de 


42  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

Kloof.  He,  of  course,  had  not  long  before  bought 
the  Carstairs  out  of  Allingham  Towers,  and  was  very 
anxious  to  get  into  the  county  set.  Every  one  be- 
lieved that  he  was  on  the  Stock  Exchange,  and  in 
time  he  might  have  come  to  it,  particularly  if  he  had 
married  a  county  girl,  and  had  made  the  settlements 
big  enough.  As  it  was,  Fate — with  the  help  of  an  im- 
pudent tramp  who  thought  he  had  got  a  pretty  lady 
on  a  bicycle  at  his  mercy — sent  him  the  Countess's 
way,  and  she  took  his  card  and  his  escort  home,  and 
insisted  on  Lord  Mullingham  going  personally  to 
thank  him.  The  Earl  grumbled  pretty  much,  said 
he  was  a  low,  money-lending  Jew,  and  that  a  letter  of 
thanks  would  be  enough.  However,  eventually  he 
went  over  to  Allingham  Towers  and  did  the  civil  as 
graciously  as  he  could  bring  himself  to  do.  Then 
he  thought  the  whole  affair  ended ;  but  her  ladyship, 
who  was  a  little  flirt  still  at  bottom,  struck  up  a  kind 
of  friendship  with  Harry  on  the  sly,  and  at  last  she 
told  him  what  awful  straits  she  was  in  for  money,  and 
entreated  him  to  save  her.  Now,  Harry  de  Kloof 
was,  of  course,  a  Jew  and  a  money-lender,  and  the 
old  instinct  was  strong  in  him.  So  he  told  her  he 
would  lend  her  as  much  as  she  needed  if  she  would 
give  him  some  security  in  the  way  of  jewelry.  So 
what  does  the  little  Countess  do  but  take  over  a  heap 
of  her  jewels  to  Allingham  Towers  and  put  it  into 
his  hands. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  43 

" '  I  suppose  this  is  all  your  own  ?'  he  asked. 

" '  Yes,  of  course/  she  replied.  '  It  was  mostly 
given  to  me  at  the  time  of  my  marriage.' 

"So  Harry  advanced  her  a  couple  of  hundred 
pounds  on  it  and  put  the  jewels  in  his  safe.  '  You'd 
better  just  put  your  name  to  this  in  case  anything 
happens  to  me,'  he  said,  and  she  signed  the  paper 
without  even  looking  at  it. 

" '  I  am  to  pay  you  back  in  six  months,'  she  said, 
as  she  put  the  notes  away  in  her  purse. 

"'Yes,  and  I  keep  the  jewels  mean  time,'  he 
answered. 

" '  Oh,  I'll  soon  save  that  out  of  my  pin-money,' 
she  said,  gaily  enough. 

"  But,  poor  little  soul,  that  two  hundred  only 
stopped  the  maw  of  the  dressmakers  for  a  few  weeks, 
and  not  a  penny  did  she  save  before  the  six  months 
had  run  out.  By  that  time  a  hint  of  her  friendship 
with  Harry  had  got  to  the  Earl's  ears,  and  she  found 
herself  under  pretty  close  observation.  At  the  end 
of  the  time  he  wrote  to  her  and  told  her  the  time 
was  up  and  that  he  wanted  the  money  or  some  other 
consideration.  With  great  difficulty  she  managed  to 
meet  him,  when  he  made  himself  clear.  '  Look  here, 
Lady  Mullingham,'  he  said, — and  mind  you,  I  had 
the  story  straight  from  Harry  himself, — '  I've  got  your 
jewels  and  you  owe  me  two  hundred  pounds.  That 
is  a  mere  flea-bite ;  but  you  can  do  something  for  me, 


44  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

and  I  shall  be  ready  to  cry  quits  as  soon  as  you  like. 
I'm  a  rich  man,  a  half-million  man,  and  I  want  to  get 
into  society.  I  want  to  be  in  the  county  set.  Now, 
if  you  like,  you  can  do  what  I  want.  Ask  me  to 
dinner  at  the  Castle — a  real  slap-up  dinner-party,  say 
of  twenty-four  or  thirty  of  the  best  people  you  know 
— and  I'll  forgive  you  the  debt  and  hand  you  over 
the  jewels  within  twenty-four  hours.  Now,  what  do 
you  say?' 

" '  Why,  just  this,'  she  said :  '  five  years  ago  I  could 
have  done  it  as  easily  as  I  can  snap  my  fingers ;  but 
now  his  Lordship' — yes,  she  called  her  husband  his 
Lordship  as  if  by  instinct,  and  that  upset  Harry  more 
than  anything — '  is  so  annoyed  with  me  for  having 
spent  such  a  lot  of  money  that  he  is  not  as  easy  to 
manage  as  he  once  was.  Oh,  Mr.  de  Kloof/  she 
exclaimed,  *  are  you  set  on  conquering  the  county  ? 
They  are  so  stupid  and  dull,  these  county  people, 
they  are  not  worth  it.' 

"  But  Harry  was  as  obstinate  as  a  mule.  '  It's  my 
whim,'  he  said,  doggedly,  '  and  I  am  willing  to  pay 
for  it.  Think,  Lady  Mullingham, — two  hundred 
pounds.  It's  a  big  price  to  pay  for  one  dinner- 
party.' 

" '  Yes,  but  it's  a  big  thing  to  ask,'  she  replied. 
'  You  want  to  meet  all  the  pick  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  the  question  is,  do  the  pick  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood want  to  meet  you  ?' 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  45 

"  '  Very  likely  not,'  said  Harry.  '  But  that  doesn't 
concern  you.  I  only  want  my  opportunity, — the  rest 
is  my  affair.  Now,  what  do  you  say  ?  Will  you  do 
it  or  not  ?' 

"  '  It  does  not  rest  with  me,'  she  said.  '  I  would 
do  it  like  a  shot,  I'd  do  almost  anything  for  two  hun- 
dred pounds.  However,  as  I  said,  it  does  not  rest 
with  me.  I'll  do  my  best,  but  I  must  have  my  hus- 
band's leave.  That's  essential.' 

" '  Can't  you  ask  whom  you  like  to  your  own 
home  ?'  he  said,  and  he  owns  that  he  couldn't  help 
a  bit  of  a  sneer  at  that. 

" '  No,'  she  said,  '  I  can't.  I  can  do  a  good  deal 
on  my  own  responsibility,  but  I  can't  do  that.'  And 
so  they  left  it. 

"  Harry  never  knew  how  she  worked  it,  but  two 
days  later  he  received  an  invitation  from  the  Earl 
and  Countess  of  Mullingham  for  a  dinner-party  to 
take  place  three  weeks  later.  He  joyfully  accepted, 
and  stuck  the  card  up  in  his  dining-room  and  took 
care  that  every  one  of  the  few  people  he  knew  knew 
that  he  had  been  invited  to  dinner  at  Mullingham 
Towers  with  three  weeks'  notice.  Well,  he  went  on 
quite  happily  till  the  very  day,  when,  about  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  he  received  a  note  from 
Lord  Mullingham  saying  that  he  regretted  that, 
owing  to  Lady  Mullingham's  sudden  indisposition, 
he  would  not  be  able  to  receive  him  that  evening. 


46  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

Harry  went  out  and  saw  the  groom,  enquired  ten- 
derly as  to  her  ladyship's  condition,  but  got  nothing 
at  all  out  of  the  man,  who  simply  said  that  he  did 
not  happen  to  have  seen  her  ladyship  that  day,  and 
knew  nothing  of  what  went  on  indoors.  Harry 
went  over  to  call  the  next  day,  and  the  flunky  who 
came  to  the  door  told  him  that  her  ladyship  was 
somewhat  better  but  was  not  receiving.  So  Harry 
handed  in  his  card  and  got  back  into  his  carriage 
and  pair  again,  and  he  says  he  had  a  sort  of  feeling 
all  the  time  that  something  was  wrong ;  but  that  I 
dare  say  wasn't  presentiment  at  all,  but  only  the  un- 
comfortableness  of  being  looked  over  by  the  flunkey 
of  the  house  he  wanted  to  know  intimately  and 
couldn't  get  to.  He  sent  over  the  next  day,  and  the 
answer  was  that  her  ladyship  was  all  right  again, 
and  he  naturally  enough  began  to  watch  for  the 
dinner  invitation  again.  And  then  he  happened  to 
hear  that  the  dinner-party  had  taken  place  after  all" 

The  narrator  paused  and  looked  round  the  table 
to  give  full  effect  to  his  words.  The  entire  family — 
who  never  happened  to  have  heard  the  full  version 
of  the  story  before — uttered  an  exclamation  as  if  by 
one  consent,  "  Well  ?"  And  even  Rachel  forgot  that 
she  never  showed  the  smallest  interest  in  anything 
that  John  Strode  said,  and  leaned  forward  as  eagerly 
as  the  rest. 

"  Well,"  John  Strode  went  on,  "  that  was  an  awful 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  47 

blow  to  poor  old  Harry ;  he  couldn't  believe  it, — he 
couldn't,  reelly.  He  enquired  about  a  bit  and  found 
that  it  was  perfectly  true,  that  on  the  very  same 
evening  that  he'd  been  put  off  with  an  excuse  as  to 
her  ladyship's  indisposition  a  dinner  of  thirty  had 
been  given  at  the  Castle.  He  came  in  to  my  place 
and  stormed  and  raved,  said  he'd  have  the  best  of 
the  little  devil  yet,  and  a  good  deal  more,  and  the 
very  next  day  I  happened  to  be  talking  to  him  about 
a  horse  in  Anderton's  Yard,  when  in  comes  Lord 
Mullingham.  Harry  isn't  one  that  wants  for  pluck, 
and  besides  his  monkey  was  up,  so  he  walks  straight 
over  to  the  Earl,  and  he  says,  '  I  understand,  Lord 
Mullingham,  that  you  had  a  dinner  of  thirty  covers 
at  the  Castle  the  very  night  that  you  put  me  off 
with  the  excuse  that  Lady  Mullingham  was  ill?' 
Lord  Mullingham — you  know  what  he's  like,  two 
yards  of  pump  water  with  cold  blue  eyes  and  a 
tired  look — he  just  looks  Harry  over  and  he  says, 
'  Yes,  that  is  quite  true.'  '  Then  may  I  ask  what's 
the  meaning  of  it?'  Harry  blusters.  'Better  not,' 
says  my  lord  in  his  gentle  voice.  '  But  I  insist  on 
having  an  explanation,'  Harry  shouts.  'And  you 
shall,'  says  my  lord  in  the  same  tired  way.  '  I  don't 
very  often  interfere  with  my  wife's  doings,  but  her 
ladyship  is  still  very  young,  and  when  she  makes 
such  a  mistake  as  to  ask  you  to  dinner,  I  have  to  get 
her  out  of  it  the  best  way  I  can.' 


48  THE  PEACEMAKERS. 

"  For  a  minute,"  John  Strode  went  on,  "  I  thought 
Harry  was  going  for  him.  The  veins  stood  out  on 
his  temples  like  cords,  and  his  face  went  a  deep  dull 
purple." 

" '  Perhaps  your  lordship  will  change  your  tune 
one  of  these  days,'  he  said  at  last.  '  Harry  de 
Kloof  isn't  the  most  insignificant  person  in  the 
world,  though  you  seem  to  think  so  now.  Mark 
my  words,  my  Lord  Mullingham,  the  day  will  come 
when  you  will  wish  you  had  never  written  me  that 
letter,  and ' 

" '  And  till  then/  said  the  Earl,  yawning, '  we  will 
not  renew  this  very  tiresome  conversation.'  He 
turned  away  then,"  John  Strode  continued,  "  exactly 
as  if  Harry  was  so  much  dirt  under  his  feet.  As 
for  Harry,  he  was  well-nigh  speechless  with  fury. 
When  he  did  find  his  tongue  again,  he  said  very 
little.  '  I'll  be  even  with  him  before  a  week  has 
gone  over  our  heads,'  he  ground  out  between  his 
teeth,  and  never  mentioned  the  matter  again  till 
nearly  a  fortnight  had  gone  by.  Then  he  came  to 
me  one  day  and  said,  '  John,  old  fellow,  I'm  in  the 
.thick  of  a  shindy  with  the  Right  Honourable  the 
Earl  of  Mullingham,  and  I've  got  to  meet  him  at 
old  Willoughby's  office  to-morrow  morning  at  eleven 
o'clock.  I  don't  want  to  take  my  own  lawyer,  my 
town  man,  and  I  don't  want  to  employ  a  local  so- 
licitor on  a  money-lending  business,  and  I  don't 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  49 

want  to  go  alone.     Will  you  go  with  me  and  see 
me  through  it  ?' 

"  I  promised  to  do  that,  of  course ;  and  then  he 
told  me  that,  by  way  of  taking  revenge,  he  had  sim- 
ply sold  Lady  Mullingham's  jewels  to  a  London 
jeweller,  and  that  he  had  taken  means  to  let  the 
Earl  have  a  hint  of  it,  and  that  it  turned  out  several 
of  the  ornaments  were  heirlooms  (as  Harry  had  sus- 
pected all  along)  and  would  have  to  be  bought  back 
again  at  any  price.  Well,  the  next  day  we  met  the 
Earl  at  Mr.  Willoughby's  office,  and  they  made  it 
very  hot  for  Harry.  The  jeweller,  who  had  given 
fifteen  hundred  pounds  for  the  things,  was  there,  and 
he  was  civil  and  fair,  and  said  that,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, he  would  give  them  up  without  a  penny 
more  profit  than  would  cover  the  cost  of  his  journey 
from  town  and  back.  Old  Willoughby  told  Harry 
plainly  that  if  Lord  Mullingham  chose  to  carry  it 
into  court  the  affair  would  ruin  him  in  the  eyes  of 
all  decent-feeling  men  and  women.  They  called  him 
a  cad  and  a  swindler  and  a  Jew  cutpurse,  and  lots 
of  other  things ;  but  Harry  never  budged  one  inch 
from  his  position  that  he  had  done  no  more  than  he 
had  a  perfect  right  to  do.  And  at  last  Lord  Mul- 
lingham wrote  a  cheque  for  fifteen  hundred  and  five 
pounds,  and  thanked  the  jeweller  very  civilly  for 
meeting  him  in  the  matter  of  obtaining  the  things 
back.  Then  old  Willoughby  got  up  and  pointed  to 


50  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

the  door.  '  Oblige  me/  he  said  to  Harry, '  by  leaving 
my  office  at  once.' 

" '  Certainly/  said  Harry,  getting  up  deliberately. 
Then  he  turned  and  looked  at  the  Earl.  '  Fifteen 
hundred  and  five  pounds,  and  this  old  gentleman's 
fees  into  the  bargain/  he  said,  with  a  frightful  sneer. 
'  You  had  better  have  let  that  dinner  invitation  stand, 
my  lord.' 

"Lord  Mullingham  just  looked  up  in  his  tired 
way.  '  On  the  contrary/  he  said,  in  the  sweetest 
tone  possible,  '  /  consider  it  cheap  at  the  price! 

"  That  finished  poor  old  Harry,"  John  Strode  went 
on.  "  He  turned  and  went  out  without  another  word. 
I  never  saw  him  or  any  one  else  so  crushed.  And 
that  is  the  worst  of  trying  to  fight  these  swells.  You 
never  know  where  you  have  them.  They'd  go  to 
the  scaffold  as  cool  and  quiet  as  they'd  light  a  cigar- 
ette." 

"  And  the  story  crept  out,"  said  Matt. 

"Crept  out?  Lord,  yes,  and  was  the  social  ruin 
of  poor  old  Harry  with  the  county  set,"  John  Strode 
replied.  "  I  always  thought  it  was  rather  hard  on 
him,  the  whole  affair.  They  might  just  as  well  have 
let  the  dinner  invitation  stand.  You  see  it  cost  the 
Earl  fifteen  hundred  pounds." 

"  I  agree  with  Lord  Mullingham,"  remarked  Matt, 
in  a  sharp,  dry  voice.  "  It  was  cheap  at  the  price." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  SANCTUARY  OF  THE  PEACEMAKERS. 

What  a  strange  world  the  next  one  would  be  if  we  could  each 
arrange  a  Heaven  of  our  own  I 

THE  following  morning  Flo  went  to  service  with 
the  rest  of  the  family.  They  called  it  going  to  give 
thanks.  They  walked  to  the  little  sanctuary,  as  they 
called  the  chapel,  which  was  not  more  than  five  min- 
utes' walk  from  the  Abode  of  Peace. 

It  was  a  little  gem  of  a  building,  unlike  any  place 
of  worship  which  Flo  had  ever  seen  before.  It  was 
of  an  oblong  form,  and  had  small  windows  at  regular 
intervals  all  the  way  round,  each  furnished  with  a 
window-box  filled  with  plants.  The  windows  were 
all  of  stained  glass,  and  the  one  over  the  altar  was 
much  larger,  as  in  a  church,  and  told  very  beautifully 
the  story  of  Jacob  and  Rachel, — not  in  the  usual  con- 
ventional church-window  style,  but  more  like  a  pic- 
ture painted  upon  a  great  sheet  of  glass  instead  of 
on  a  canvas. 

The  pews  were  very  wide,  and  were  fitted  with 
regular  stalls  on  the  one  side  and  with  wide  kneeling- 
stools  and  sloping  book-rests  on  the  other.  The 
pulpit  was  a  piece  of  superb  carving,  and  the  altar 

51 


52  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

was  decked  with  a  richly  broidered  purple  cloth,  and 
was  adorned  by  many  beautiful  plants  and  flowers. 
To  Flo's  mind,  the  mind  of  a  churchwoman,  the 
sanctuary  was  more  suggestive  of  a  drawing-room 
than  of  a  place  of  worship,  and  the  service  was  so 
very  friendly  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  assembly  had 
gathered  together  for  a  conversazione  rather  than  for 
a  ritual.  As  soon  as  the  organ  began  to  play,  how- 
ever, all  present  went  to  their  respective  seats,  and 
the  general  behaviour  was  decorous  in  the  extreme. 

The  service  impressed  the  girl  deeply.  It  was  so 
gentle  and  peaceful,  the  music  was  of  such  thrilling 
sweetness  and  the  prayers  were  so  tender,  the  ser- 
mon so  filled  full  and  overflowing  with  all  love  and 
charity.  There  were  no  denunciations  of  sins  hurled 
at  the  meek  faithful  who  had  come  in  a  spirit  of  love 
and  duty,  no  vivid  pictures  of  hell  or  descriptions  of 
the  death-bed  of  the  unrepentant.  All  was  gentle 
and  persuasive.  "  If  there  be  any  among  you  who 
have  not  yet  found  peace,"  said  the  preacher,  "  there 
is  one  sure  way  of  finding  it.  Give  it  to  others,  my 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  surely  some  small  portion 
will  rest  over,  which  will  take  root  in  your  hearts 
and  grow  and  flourish  there  exceedingly.  Work  for 
others,  and  some  overflow  will  well  back  upon  your- 
selves, and  it  will  bring  the  richest  blessings  of  the 
God  of  Peace  with  it." 

It  was  just  then  that  Florence  Milvane  happened 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  53 

to  turn  her  eyes  upon  her  future  father-  and  mother- 
in-law  as  they  sat  side  by  side  at  the  end  of  the  pew. 
Mr.  Gorman  sat  still  as  a  statue,  with  his  dark  burn- 
ing eyes  resting  upon  the  preacher.  His  expression 
was  one  of  complete  satisfaction  and  appreciation. 
His  wife  was  sitting  with  her  eyes  closed,  her  face 
paler  than  ever,  and  bearing  an  expression  of  in- 
tensest  pain  upon  it.  As  the  sermon  came  to  an 
end,  Flo  saw  that  a  sigh  escaped  her  lips,  and  she 
fancied  it  was  a  sigh  of!  relief.  The  thought  flashed 
upon  her  that  Mrs.  Gorman  was  devoured  by  some 
secret  trouble,  and  that  it  was  literally  eating  her 
heart  out.  Then  her  attention  was  recalled  to  the 
old  pastor  with  his  gentle  voice  and  silvery  hair  as 
he  announced  hymn  No.  48,  and  then  he  read  the 
text:  "These  are  they  which  came  out  of  great 
tribulation." 

Then  the  pastor's  daughter  played  the  first  two 
lines,  and  they  began  to  sing, — 

"These  are  they  which  came, 

All  praise  and  glory  giving, 
Through  tribulation  great, 
To  seek  the  waters  living. 

"These  are  they  to  whom 

God  gave  below  affliction, 
That  they  might  know  above 
His  endless  benediction. 


54  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  These  are  they  !     God's  peace 

Their  portion  is  for  ever; 
A  band  once  scattered  now 

Nor  time  nor  chance  can  sever. 

"These  are  they!     On  earth 

Wide,  wide  apart  their  races; 
Jew,  Christian,  and  Turk, 

But  God's  seal  on  their  faces. 

"  These  are  they  which  wrote 

With  tears  the  human  story; 
God  sought  them  far  and  wide, 
In  peace  to  share  His  glory." 

The  hymn  was  a  favourite  one  with  the  little  con- 
gregation, the  tune  to  which  it  went  w^as  sweet  and 
alluring,  and  the  effect  upon  the  stranger  was  almost 
magical.  There  were  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she  sank 
upon  her  knees  for  the  final  blessing. 

"  The  Lord  bless  you  and  keep  you,  the  Lord 
make  His  face  to  shine  upon  you  and  give  you  peace, 
now  and  for  evermore.  Amen." 

In  the  solemn  hush  which  followed,  Florence 
Milvane  determined  to  turn  aside  from  the  colder 
path  in  which  she  had  walked  all  her  life  and  to 
become  in  heart  and  truth  a  Peacemaker. 

Matt's  first  words  when  they  once  more  gained 
the  street  struck  her  with  the  shock  of  hideous 
incongruity.  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  how  did  you  like  it  ? 
Queer  little  show,  isn't  it?" 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  55 

"  Oh,  Matt !"  she  burst  out. 

"  Eh,  what  ?  Why,  little  girl,  you  don't  mean  to 
say  it  has  been  too  much  for  you  ?  You  need  not 
go,  you  know,  if  you  don't  feel  that  way.  I'll  say 
that  for  the  Peacemakers,  they  never  urge  any  one 
to  join  them.  My  father  believes  in  perfect  freedom 
of  religious  thought.  They  only  want  members  who 
feel  just  as  they  do." 

"Oh,  Matt,"  she  cried,  "I  thought  it  was  beauti- 
ful—beautiful." 

"  Did  you  ?  Well,  we  never  can  tell  how  a  differ- 
ent form  of  service  will  strike  others.  Then  you 
won't  mind  going  to  sanctuary  sometimes  ?" 

"  I  shall  always  go,"  she  burst  out. 

"  That  will  please  my  old  father  intensely,"  he  said. 
"  We  must  take  an  opportunity  of  telling  him." 

He  did  not  do  so,  however,  until  quite  late  in  the 
day,  after  the  late  supper, — indeed,  when  Mrs.  Gor- 
man and  the  girls  had  left  the  room.  Then  Matt 
stayed  behind  and  told  his  father  that  Flo  had  been 
deeply  impressed  by  the  service  that  day,  and  had 
declared  her  intention  of  becoming  a  regular  member 
of  the  community  after  her  marriage. 

Mr.  Gorman  said  little,  but  an  hour  later  he  came 
into  the  drawing-room,  where  the  whole  party  were 
sitting  very  happily  around  the  fire,  and  put  an  en- 
velope into  Flo's  hand.  "  My  new  little  daughter," 
he  said,  laying  his  disengaged  hand  upon  her  head, 


56  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  my  son's  chosen  wife,  this  is  my  antenuptial 
present  to  you,  a  trifle  to  buy  pretty  clothes  with. 
You  can  look  at  it  afterwards."  And  she  closed  her 
fingers  over  the  bit  of  paper  in  a  plain  hint  that  she 
should  not  open  it  until  she  was  alone. 

"  Oh,  thank  you  so  much,  Mr.  Gorman  !"  Flo  cried, 
then  blushed  a  deep  rosy  red.  "  Are  you  both  quite 
sure  that — that  you  are  satisfied  with  me?"  At 
which  somehow  everybody  laughed,  and  Mrs.  Gor- 
man put  out  a  tender  hand  and  held  hers  close  in  a 
silence  that  was  eloquence  itself.  And  when  she 
came  later  to  look  what  the  envelope  contained  she 
found  a  cheque  for  a  hundred  pounds. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

MRS.    MATTHEW. 

The  moon  looks  to  our  unassisted  vision  like  a  disc  of  silver; 
while  to  the  same  eyes,  by  a  powerful  telescope,  it  is  shown  to  be 
pierced  by  deep  fissures  and  scarred  by  the  eruptions  of  great  vol- 
canoes. So  do  a  bride's  views  of  her  husband's  relations  change 
after  her  marriage.  She  then  begins  to  perceive  the  fissures  in  her 
new  world,  and  to  become  aware  of  the  scars  of'old  wounds,  hitherto 
hidden  from  her. 

THE  three  girls  got  up  very  early  the  following 
morning,  that  they  might  give  Flo  breakfast  before 
she  left  the  Abode;  and  it  was  a  very  gay  and 
happy  party  which  gathered  around  the  table  in  the 
morning-room,  where  Mrs.  Gorman  had  ordered  the 
meal  to  be  served.  Neither  Mr.  nor  Mrs.  Gorman 
appeared ;  indeed,  both  had  promised  Flo  that  they 
would  not  do  so. 

And  after  that  last  merry  meal  eaten  in  the  small 
hours  of  the  morning,  Flo  saw  no  more  of  the 
Gorman  family  until  a  couple  of  days  before  her 
wedding.  Matt,  of  course,  she  saw  constantly,  as 
often  indeed  as  she  could  spare  time  to  slip  away  to 
London. 

As  soon  as  she  reached  the  office  on  the  morning 
of  her  arrival  in  London  after  her  brief  visit  to  Mul- 

57 


58  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

lingham,  she  sought  out  her  chief  and  tendered  her 
resignation  to  him.  He  pulled  a  wry  face,  but  told 
her  that  under  the  circumstances  he  could  not  raise 
any  objection.  "  But  I  would  not  have  let  you  go 
for  any  other  reason,  Miss  Milvane,"  he  added. 

She  remained  at  her  post  until  her  successor  was 
ready  to  fill  it,  and  then  she  spent  a  pleasant  week 
in  getting  herself  some  wedding  garments, — among 
them  a  dove-gray  gown  in  which  to  be  married,  and 
a  gray  felt  hat  with  many  feathers  to  wear  with  it. 
Her  own  savings  and  Mr.  Gorman's  present  she 
spent  very  carefully  and  judiciously,  and  when  her 
purchases  were  all  made,  she  went  down  to  her 
mother's  pretty  country  home  that  she  might  spend 
the  few  remaining  days  of  her  spinsterhood  with 
her. 

The  details  of  the  wedding  do  not  concern  my 
story.  The  Gorman  family  came  down  from  their 
hotel  in  London  and  lunched  at  the  principal  hotel 
in  the  little  town.  Then  they  walked  quietly  to 
church,  where,  they  met  Flo,  her  mother,  and  several 
of  her  brothers  and  sisters.  The  only  guest  who 
could  in  any  way  be  called  an  outsider  was  the  girl 
friend  with  whom  Flo  had  shared  rooms  for  so  long 
a  time,  and  she  was  in  a  curiously  mixed  state,  being 
half-exultant  at  the  brilliance  of  the  marriage  and 
half-resentful  of  her  own  loss  thereby. 

The  most  important  events  of  our  earthly  careers, 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  59 

weddings  and  buryings,  take  but  little  time  to  ac- 
complish, and  this  wedding,  being  such  a  simple 
affair,  was  soon  over,  and  Flo  was  Florence  Mil  vane 
no  longer,  but  Matthew  Gorman's  wife. 

Surely  never  did  any  young  bride  set  out  before 
with  happiness  so  well  assured  as  when  Florence 
Gorman  left  her  mother's  pretty  cottage  on  her 
honeymoon.  "  I  cannot  believe  that  I  am  really 
your  wife,  really  married,"  she  said,  as  the  train 
moved  away  from  the  station. 

But  habit,  as  all  the  world  knows,  is  second  na- 
ture, and  by  the  time  that  Matt  and  his  wife  arrived 
at  Mullingham,  after  a  delicious  month  spent  in  the 
sunny  South,  Flo  was  quite  accustomed  to  thinking 
of  herself  as  Mrs.  Matthew  Gorman,  and  quite  accus- 
tomed to  the  feeling  that  if  she  wished  for  a  pretty 
hat  or  a  new  pair  of  gloves  she  could  indulge  herself 
in  such  luxuries  without  a  sensation  lurking  some- 
where in  the  recesses  of  her  heart  that  she  was  little 
short  of  a  criminal. 

They  arrived  at  the  Abode  on  the  i8th  of  January, 
and  found  that  the  fatted  calf  had  been  killed  over 
and  over  again  in  their  honour.  This  time  Flo  was 
conducted  to  the  best  bedroom,  and  Mrs.  Gorman 
told  her  that  she  hoped  she  and  Matthew  would  keep 
it  for  a  long,  long  time. 

"  Not  that  I  should  wish  to  suggest  that  you 
should  stay  here  always,  dear  child,"  she  said,  "  for 


6o  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

half  the  pleasure  of  being  married  is  in  having  a  house 
of  your  very  own  and  in  being  mistress  of  it.  You 
have  led  a  busy  life,  and  you  would  find  time  hang 
very  heavily  on  your  hands  if  you  had  no  home  to 
think  of  and  see  to.  But  choose  your  house  with 
care,  and  have  any  alterations  which  it  may  chance 
to  want  done  before  you  go  into  it.  And  until  your 
house  is  quite  ready  for  you  and  you  are  quite  ready 
for  it,  remember  this  is  your  home." 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Gorman,  you  are  too  kind,"  Flo  said. 
"  Thank  you  so  much.  I — I  have  no  words — I — I 
am  so  happy  and  you  are  all  so  good  to  me.  I  think 
I  am  the  very  luckiest  girl  in  all  the  world." 

"  You  really  love  my  boy  ?"  Mrs.  Gorman  asked, 
looking  at  her  fixedly. 

"  I  adore  Matt,"  Flo  replied  instantly. 

Mrs.  Gorman  gave  a  sigh  as  of  relief.  "  My  dear," 
she  said,  gently,  "  troubles  will  come, — they  come  to 
all.  But  you  and  Matthew  are  starting  fair.  The 
greatest  trouble  that  can  touch  the  human  heart  you 
will  be  spared." 

"  You  mean "  said  Flo. 

"  Mother  darling,  would  you  go  and  speak  to  Dow- 
son  a  minute  ?"  said  Matty  at  that  moment.  "  She  is 
in  your  sitting-room." 

"  Of  course  I  will.  Is  anything  the  matter  ?"  Mrs. 
Gorman  asked. 

"  I  don't  know.     She  only  told  me  she  wanted  to 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  61 

see  you  particularly,"  Matty  returned.  Then,  as  her 
mother  left  the  room,  she  turned  to  Flo  and  said, 
"  Well,  my  dear,  you've  got  the  swagger  bedroom 
this  time.  I  hope  you'll  be  happy  and  comfortable 
in  it." 

"  Oh,  I  shall,"  replied  Flo,  smiling. 

"  You  needn't  make  much  of  a  toilette,"  Matty  went 
on.  "There's  nobody  coming  to  dinner  to-night. 
Mother  thought  you  might  be  tired  and  glad  to  be 
alone.  To-morrow  and  the  next  day  you  have  to  be 
at  home  to  receive  callers,  poor  thing.  They'll  come 
in  crowds.  To-morrow  evening  there  is  a  small  din- 
ner, and  on  Tuesday  a  big  dance.  After  that  there 
are  heaps  of  invitations  for  all  sorts  of  festivities,  for 
this  is  the  gay  time  of  the  year  in  Mullingham.  I 
hope  you've  brought  some  very  smart  frocks." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have,"  Flo  replied,  sitting  down  oppo- 
site to  Matty  and  toasting  her  feet  in  the  fender, 
"  some  tremendously  smart  frocks.  Matt  insisted 
on  it." 

"  Of  course,  when  you  were  down  before  it  was 
such  a  little  pop  visit  that  you  saw  none  of  our 
friends,  only  two  or  three  who  go  to  the  sanctuary." 

"  Then  you  know  lots  of  people  besides  the  con- 
gregation ?"  Flo  remarked. 

"  Dear,  yes,  child ;  we  should  be  badly  off  for 
friends  if  we  depended  on  the  Peacemakers  for  so- 
ciety. I  don't  suppose,"  she  went  on,  reflectively, 


62  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  that  you  will  care  very  much  about  the  members 
of  the  congregation.  We  don't." 

"  Does  that  mean " 

"  We  young  ones.  Oh,  father  is  the  boss  of  the 
whole  show,  so  he  likes  it  because  he  does  exactly 
as  he  pleases.  Everybody  kow-tows  fearfully  to 
father,  and  he  has  got  used  to  an  atmosphere  of  def- 
erence. But,  of  course,  none  of  us  get  any  defer- 
ence, and — oh,  well,  of  course,  we  go  to  sanctuary 
to  please  father." 

"And  you  are  not  a  real  Peacemaker?"  said 
Flo. 

"  Nearer  to  a  born  mischief-maker,"  returned  Matty, 
with  a  laugh.  "  Seriously,  though,  I  think  I  would 
rather  go  to  church  like  other  people.  However, 
mother  likes  to  please  father,  and  so  we  go  to  sanc- 
tuary instead,  and  put  up  with  the  rest  of  the  lot  that 
go  there  as  best  we  can." 

"  But  you  don't  believe  in  it,"  persisted  Flo. 

"Just  about  as  much  as  you  believe  in  all  the 
tenets  of  your  church,"  answered  Matty,  with  a 
promptitude  which  was  almost  flippant;  "in  the 
actual  theories,  yes,  yes,  emphatically  yes;  in  the 
application  of  them,  it  is  more  doubtful." 

Flo  sighed.  "  I  was  so  deeply  impressed,"  she 
said,  "  so — so  much  awed.  It  seemed  as  if — as  if 
this  peace  had  really  found  a  spot  on  earth  and " 

"  I  suppose  my  father  has  found  it,"  Matty  said, 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  63 

seriously.  "  And  my  mother  is  an  angel, — an  angel 
on  earth  ;  but  for  the  rest,  oh,  well,  you  will  see  in 
time, — the  same  ideas,  the  same  faiths,  don't  work 
the  same  way  with  everybody.  That  can  never  be. 
Take  Matt,  now,  for  instance.  He  goes  straight  on 
his  own  line,  turning  neither  to  right  nor  left.  I  don't 
suppose  he  ever  gives  a  thought  one  way  or  another 
to  the  difference  between  the  Peacemakers  and  the 
Church  of  England ;  possibly  he  doesn't  even  know 
it;  I'm  sure  I  don't.  And  yet  Matt  is  good  and 
straight  and  true  and  absolutely  unaffected  by  all 
the  bickerings  that  go  on  around  us.  Take  my 
advice  and  do  the  same.  I  don't  often  talk  religion, 
but  I  believe  in  one  thing.  Make  a  bee-line  for 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  and  leave  all  the  highways 
and  byways  to  take  care  of  themselves.  But,  my 
dear,  are  we  not  taking  a  very  serious  line  for  our 
first  chat  in  your  new  home  ?  for  this  is  your  home 
until  you  are  in  one  of  your  very  own." 

"  Well,  what  are  you  two  talking  about  ?"  cried 
Rachel's  gay  young  voice  at  the  door.  "  Can  I  come 
in  ?  Dear  Flo,  I'm  so  sorry  to  have  been  out  when 
you  came,  but  I  had  a  singing  lesson  and  I  did  not 
want  to  miss  it.  Welcome  home,  dear.  I  saw  Matt 
downstairs  just  now,  looking  very  consequential  and 
important.  Have  you  had  a  good  time  ?  I  didn't 
worry  you  with  letters  because  I  didn't  want  to  give 
you  the  trouble  of  answering  them." 


64  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"Ahem!"  said  Matty,  in  a  loud  voice,  betokening 
unbelief. 

Rachel  laughed.  "Well,  I  really  did  have  some 
thought  of  that.  I  must  tell  you,  Flo,  that  I'm  a 
notoriously  bad  correspondent.  All  the  same,  I  do 
hope  when  I  am  married  that  my  friends  and  rela- 
tions will  let  me  enjoy  my  honeymoon  without  worry- 
ing to  know  whether  I  think  Paris  gay  or  Florence 
fascinating.  Oh,  I  say,  Matty,  what  do  you  think  ? 
I  met  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  this  afternoon,  and  she 
asked  me  how  many  servants  Matt  and  Flo  are 
going  to  keep,  and  whether  Flo  has  any  money  of 
her  own !" 

"What  cheek!"  said  Matty.  "What  a  horrid 
woman  she  is !  You  saw  her  at  sanctuary,  Flo ;  she 
had  a  red  feather  in  her  bonnet." 

"  To  our  left  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  never  took  her  eyes  off  you.  She 
always  piles  it  on  very  thick  to  father,  never  omits  a 
greeting,  though  she  never  greets  us  when  we  are 
alone.  She  went  a  bit  too  far  with  him  one  day,  all 
the  same,  for  she  began  to  make  a  complaint  to  him 
about  the  rudeness  of  the  chief  cashier's  wife  to  her, 
— her  husband  is  one  of  the  managers  at  the  Works, 
— and  father  turned  sharp  round  and  said,  '  Madam, 
I  go  from  the  sanctuary  to  the  Abode  of  Peace. 
Spare  me  the  knowledge  of  any  outward  strife,  I 
entreat  you.'  Of  course  she  had  to  bottle  up  all 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  65 

her  chagrin  as  best  she  might.     Horrid  creature  she 
is." 

"  Here's  Matt.  We'll  be  off.  Ta-ta,"  and  away 
the  two  girls  went  in  a  whirl. 

Matthew  Gorman  shut  the  door  after  them  and 
drew  near  to  the  fireside  where  his  wife  sat. 
"  Well  ?"  he  said. 

Flo  looked  up.  "  Well,  Matt  dear,"  she  said,  but 
her  face  was  very  grave. 

He  was  quick  to  note  the  expression  on  her  face. 
"  What  is  it  ?  Has  anything  upset  you  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least.  They  are  all  kindness  itself," 
she  replied.  "  I  am  trying  to  piece  things  together, 
that  is  all,  and  I  am  puzzled." 

"  About  what  ?" 

"  Everything !  Religion — life — work — play — love 
— everything." 

He  stooped  and  drew  her  into  his  arms.  "  Not 
about  love,"  he  said,  fondly.  "Surely  there  is 
nothing  in  that  to  puzzle  you  ?" 

"  In  your  love  and  mine — no,  nothing,"  she  made 
answer.  "  In  the  so-called  love  of  humanity  for  one 
another  so  much,  Matt,  so  much." 

"  And  you  have  only  just  begun  to  find  it  out  ?" 
smiling. 

"  I  think  only  since  I  knew  what  love  can  be,"  she 
answered.  "  Oh,  Matt,  Matt,  I  am  so  happy  myself, 
I  want  all  the  world  to  be  happy  too." 

5 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ALL  SORTS  AND   CONDITIONS   OF   MEN. 

People  often  confuse  homeliness  with  vulgarity ;  yet  how  many 
men  and  women  there  are  who  have  no  education,  and  who  are  igno- 
rant of  conventional  manners,  who  are  full  of  dignity  and  who  fill 
their  appointed  place  in  the  world  with  honour. 

As  Matty  Gorman  had  predicted,  the  friends  and 
acquaintances  of  the  family  began  to  assemble  for 
the  purpose  of  visiting  the  bride  soon  after  three 
o'clock  of  the  afternoon  following  the  day  of  her 
arrival  at  the  Abode. 

Early  among  the  callers  was  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs, 
who  speedily  put  Flo  through  her  facings. 

"  You  like  Mullingham,  Mrs.  Matthew  ?"  she  de- 
manded, almost  before  she  had  settled  herself  on  the 
sofa  whereon  Flo  was  sitting. 

Flo  smiled.  "  Well,  I  hardly  can  say  that  I  know 
it  as  yet,"  she  replied.  "  I  think  this  is  a  charming 
house." 

"  You  would  do  so,  of  course.  I  suppose  you  will 
soon  be  moving  into  a  house  of  your  own  ?" 

"  Yes,  after  a  little  while." 

"Have  you  any  idea  what  part  of  the  town  you 
are  likely  to  choose  ?" 

66 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  67 

"  Not  at  all.  You  see,  I  don't  know  one  part  of 
the  town  from  another." 

"  Ah,  no,  I  suppose  not.  You  ought  to  come  near 
to  where  we  are, — not  far  from  the  Works,  most  con- 
venient houses,  and  very  reasonable  in  rent.  I  sup- 
pose you  intend  to  keep  two  servants  ?" 

"  I  really  cannot  say,"  Flo  replied.  "  It  will  de- 
pend upon  the  size  of  the  house  we  take."  And  Flo 
made  a  mental  vow  that,  under  no  circumstances, 
would  she  consent  to  taking  any  house  which  would 
make  her  a  near  neighbour  of  this  lady's. 

"  Are  you  going  to  attend  sanctuary  ?"  was  the 
next  question. 

"  I  think  so." 

"  Oh,  you  haven't  made  up  your  mind  yet.  Ah, 
my  dear,  it  is  a  blessed  faith,  that  of  the  Peacemakers. 
A  little  flock,  and  perhaps  somewhat  unconsidered 
in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  but  peace  reigns  within  its 
borders,  and  it  breathes  good-will  towards  all  men. 
Oh,  dear,  here's  Mrs.  Wilson ;  really,  that  woman 
does  forget  her  position  entirely." 

"  Who  is  she  ?"  Flo  enquired.  Looking  up,  she 
saw  a  very  stout,  good-natured-looking  woman  come 
bustling  in.  She  was  rather  loudly  dressed,  and  had 
a  smart  blue  feather  in  her  bonnet.  Flo  saw  that 
her  mother-in-law  went  a  few  steps  to  meet  her,  and 
that  she  greeted  her  with  much  kindness. 

"'Ow  are    you?      Cold,   ain't  it?      I   came   to 


68  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

see  Mrs.  Matthew  and  wish  'er  'ealth  and  'appi- 
ness." 

"  Here  she  is !  Flo  dear,  come  and  be  introduced 
to  Mrs.  Wilson.  Mrs.  Wilson's  good  husband  is  one 
of  Mr.  Gorman's  most  trusty  lieutenants." 

Flo  rose  at  once  and  crossed  the  room  to  where 
Mrs.  Gorman  and  the  stout  old  lady  were  still  stand- 
ing. "  This  is  Matthew's  wife,"  said  the  hostess,  put- 
ting her  hand  on  Flo's  shoulder. 

"  Peace  be  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  taking 
Flo's  two  hands  and  pressing  them  warmly.  "  Eh, 
my  dear,  but  you're  bonny.  And  you've  got  a  bonny 
man  of  your  own.  I've  known  Mr.  Matthew  ever 
since  'e  was  in  long  clothes ;  'e  was  bonny  then  and 
'e's  bonny  now,  fair  inside  and  out." 

"  I  think  so  too,"  said  Flo,  with  a  charming  smile. 

"  And  well  you  may.  Not  but  what  you're  bonny 
too.  I  used  to  think  I  should  like  to  'ave  a  little 
girl  of  my  own,  just  such  a  one  as  you  are.  But  the 
Lord  was  never  pleased  to  send  me  one,  and  perhaps 
it  was  all  for  the  best, — I  might  'ave  lost  'er.  Nay, 
I  never  'ad  chick  nor  child,  so  maybe  I  was  all  the 
better  able  to  look  after  Wilson  and  see  that  'e  got 
'is  meat  comfortable." 

"  Come  and  sit  here  by  me,  Mrs.  Wilson,"  said 
Mrs.  Gorman.  "  You  like  a  cup  of  chocolate,  don't 
you  ?  You  see  Beth  hasn't  forgotten  your  tastes." 

"  Ah,  Miss  Beth,  dear,  you're  a  jewel,"  the  old  lady 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  69 

cried.  "  Yes,  if  you'll  put  it  on  the  little  table.  I 
must  get  my  gloves  off,  and  they're  new.  I  put  an 
old  pair  in  my  pocket,  for  I  knew  I  should  never 
struggle  into  them  again." 

Flo  turned  away  to  the  tea-table,  which  was  spread 
at  the  side  of  the  room  near  to  the  door.  "  Give  me 
the  cake,"  she  said  to  Rachel.  "  I  must  take  some 
myself  to  that  delicious  old  lady." 

"Yes,  do,"  Rachel  replied;  "she's  an  old  dar- 
ling." 

Bearing  the  great  silver  cake-basket  which  was 
half-filled  with  neatly  cut  wedges  of  wedding  cake 
with  her,  Flo  went  back  to  where  Mrs.  Wilson  had 
just  divested  herself  of  her  second  glove.  "  You'll 
have  some  cake,  won't  you  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Ay,  my  dear,  that  I  will,  and  wish  you  all  the 
luck  in  the  world  while  I'm  eating  of  it,"  Mrs.  Wilson 
replied.  Then  she  helped  herself  to  a  .generous  slice 
without  seeming  to  think  it  necessary  to  excuse  her- 
self on  the  score  of  its  size.  Flo  immediately  carried 
the  basket  across  to  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs,  to  whom 
Beth  had  just  taken  a  cup  of  tea. 

"  Give  that  to  me,"  said  Matty,  in  peremptory 
tones,  when  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  had  helped  herself. 
"  There  will  be  shoals  of  people  here  presently.  I 
can  hear  some  more  in  the  hall  now." 

Thus  bereft  of  her  office,  Flo  subsided  again  on  to 
the  sofa  beside  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs.  "  Who  is  she  ?" 


70  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

she  asked,  indicating  the  stout  old  lady  opposite  by 
a  glance. 

"  Mrs.  Wilson  ?  Oh,  her  husband's  the  chief 
engineer  at  the  Works;  he  began  as  a  common 
workman  and  now  he  has  fifteen  hundred  a  year, 
and  his  wife  visits  with  Mrs.  Gorman.  I  confess  I 
cannot  understand  Mrs.  Gorman  receiving  her." 

"  Mrs.  Gorman  likes  her,  I  fancy." 

"  She  always  seems  to  do  so.  They — the  Wilsons 
— always  spend  Christmas  Day  here;  so  strange 
when  one  remembers  that  she  was  cook  at  the 
Deanery  once." 

"  Who,  Mrs.  Gorman  ?" 

"  No,  no,"  in  a  shocked  tone ;  "  Mrs.  Wilson.  Oh, 
it  isn't  scandalmongering,  there's  no  secret  about  it. 
'  Me  and  Wilson,'  she  always  says,  '  me  and  Wilson 
did  our  courting  in  the  Deanery  kitchen.' " 

At  this  moment  Flo  rose  in  response  to  a  summons 
from  her  mother-in-law,  and  went  to  be  presented 
to-  several  newcomers.  After  various  more  or  less 
uninteresting  scraps  of  conversation,  she  once  more 
found  herself  beside  Mrs.  Wilson.  "A  bit  more 
cake  ?"  she  said,  smiling. 

"  I  think  not,  thank  you,  my  dear.  I'm  not  so 
young  as  I  was,  and  good  as  it  is,  it  may  sit  'eavy. 
Ah,  'ere's  the  Dean's  lady." 

The  lady  who  came  in  next  was  a  very  dignified 
person,  with  high  features  of  aristocratic  cast  and  a 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  71 

general  air  of  looking  down  upon  the  world  from  a 
high  pinnacle  of  superiority.  She  was  followed  by 
a  very  tall  old  gentleman,  thin  as  a  whipping-post, 
who  poked  a  little  in  a  short-sighted  way  as  he 
walked,  and  Flo  saw  that  he  wore  gaiters  and  apron. 
Behind  him  came  a  rather  haughty-looking  girl  very 
much  like  her  mother. 

"  This  is  Matthew's  wife,  Lady  Emily,"  said  Mrs. 
Gorman, — "  Lady  Emily  Maxwell,  dear,  .and  the 
Dean.  And  Miss  Maxwell." 

"  Our  best  wishes  to  you,"  said  Lady  Emily,  taking 
Flo's  hand  and  speaking  in  very  melodious  accents. 
"  We  have  known  your  husband  a  long,  long  time, 
and  have  as  much  respect  for  him  as  for  his  dear  and 
good  father  and  mother." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  murmured  Flo. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  married  you  to  Matt,"  said 
the  old  Dean,  breaking  in,  "  but  it  was  all  done  so 
quietly " 

"  Oh,  I  should  never  have  dared  to  ask  you,"  Flo 
exclaimed. 

"  Tut,  tut,  I  hope  we  shall  be  very  good  friends. 
I  daresay  my  wife  and  daughter  will  absorb  your 
interest  soon  enough.  You  see  there  is  no  parishing 
work  in  the  sanctuary.  I  always  tell  my  friend,  Mr. 
Gorman,  that  it  is  a  little  religion  de  luxe,  very  well 
fitted  for  the  rich  and  temperate  few,  but  not  for  the 
workaday  world." 


72  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

At  this  point  Flo  saw  old  Mrs.  Wilson  get  on  to 
her  feet  with  a  valiant  effort,  for  she  was  very  stout, 
and  the  settee,  on  which  she  had  subsided  in  response 
to  Mrs.  Gorman's  invitation,  was  very  low  and 
luxurious,  and  Lady  Emily  turned  from  her  hostess 
to  greet  her.  Truth  to  tell,  ever  since  the  origin  of 
Mrs.  Wilson  had  been  made  known  to  her  and  the 
identity  of  the  Maxwells  had  been  revealed,  she  had 
kept  a  curious  eye  on  the  two  ladies  who  had  once 
been  mistress  and  cook,  wondering  the  while  how 
they  would  greet  one  another.  To  her  surprise, 
Lady  Emily  went  forward  with  outstretched  hand. 
"  I  thought  I  should  see  you  here,  Polly,"  she  heard 
her  say.  "  I  knew  the  bride  and  groom  would  have 
your  wishes  for  happiness." 

"  Ah,  my  lady,"  the  other  replied,  "  you  and  me 
knows  what  married  'appiness  is,  and  if  Mr.  Matt 
and  'is  dear  young  wife  is  'alf  as  'appy  as  me  and 
you,  they'll  not  ail  much,  that  they  won't." 

"  I'm  sure  I  hope  they  will.  Yes,  thank  you,  dear, 
I'll  have  chocolate,"  turning  to  Beth,  who  had  ap- 
proached her  with  a  cup  of  the  fragrant  beverage. 
Then,  as  the  girl  moved  away,  she  added  in  an 
undertone, "  But  I  never  get  such  chocolate  as  yours, 
Polly." 

Mrs.  Wilson's  broad  red  face  beamed  with  satisfac- 
tion, and  before  she  could  speak  the  Dean's  daughter 
came  across  the  room,  and,  bending  down,  kissed 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  73 

her.  "  Polly  darling,  I  haven't  seen  you  for  weeks," 
she  said,  sitting  down  on  the  arm  of  the  settee. 
"  You've  got  a  new  diamond  ring,  Polly.  How  Mr. 
Wilson  does  spoil  you  !" 

"  Why,  you  see,  my  lamb,  it's  all  'e  'as  to  do  with 
'is  money.  If  'e'd  a  dear  young  thing  like  you, 
'e'd  'ave  to  spend  'is  money  on  bicycles  and  pretty 
frocks  and  such-like,  but,  not  'aving  aught  young 
to  spend  it  on,  'e  just  lavishes  things  on  'is  old 
woman." 

"He  utterly  spoils  you,"  said  the  girl,  holding 
Mrs.  Wilson's  fat  hand  so  that  she  could  examine 
her  numerous  rings.  "  Polly,  what  day  can  I  come 
to  tea  ?" 

"The  'ouse  is  there,  my  love,"  Mrs.  Wilson  re- 
plied, "  and  your  welcome's  in  it,  and  will  be  as  long 
as  the  roof  covers  me." 

"Then  say  to-morrow,  about  a  quarter-past  five. 
I've  something  to  tell  you." 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  Flo,  who  once 
more  found  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  beside  her,  had 
missed  little  or  nothing  of  these  scraps  of  conver- 
sation. She  was  startled  by  the  acrid  voice  of  that 
lady.  "  I  can't  think  what  all  these  people  can  be 
thinking  of.  There's  Muriel  Maxwell  actually  invit- 
ing herself  to  tea  with  her  and — just  look  at  that." 

"  Now,  don't  rise,  Polly,  I  entreat  you,"  said  the 
Dean  at  that  instant. 


74  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  Nay,  but  I  will  rise,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson, 
struggling  on  to  her  feet  again.  "  I  never  could 
abide  them  that  gives  themselves  airs  when  they 
get  on  in  the  world ;  and  no  one  shall  ever  say  that 
Mrs.  Wilson  forgot  'erself  so  far  as  to  sit  still  when 
'er  own  old  master  came  special  to  speak  to  'er. 
Bless  me,  sir,  because  Wilson  'as  got  on  in  the 
world  and  'as  fifteen  'undred  a  year,  I  don't  forget 
that  I  was  once  cook  at  the  Deanery  and  was  wed 
therefrom." 

"  Nor  do  we,  Polly,"  said  the  old  Dean,  laughing 
outright,  "  for  there  has  never  been  such  a  cook  in  it 
since." 

"  God  bless  you,  sir,  I  can't  'elp  saying  I'm  glad 
of  it,"  was  the  quick  reply. 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  dear,  I'm  coming,"  said  the  Dean 
in  answer  to  a  touch  on  his  elbow  from  his  wife. 
"Then  good-bye,  my  old  friend.  It  is  always  a 
pleasure  to  see  your  kind  face." 

"God  bless  you,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson;  "and 
you  too,  my  dear  lady,  and  my  dear  lamb,  al- 
ways." 

"  Don't  forget  the  toffee  to-morrow,  Polly,"  said 
Miss  Maxwell,  laying  her  blooming  face  against  the 
old  woman's  red  one  for  an  instant.  "  What,  you 
don't  know  her  toffee !"  she  laughed  to  Beth  as  they 
crossed  the  room  together.  "  Then  let  me  recom- 
mend you  to  lose  no  time  in  coaxing  some  out  of 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  75 

her.  Mrs.  Wilson's  toffee  is  a  dream,  neither  more 
nor  less." 

"  I  can't  think,"  remarked  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  at 
this  moment  in  Flo's  ear,  "what  people  can  be 
thinking  of.  The  Maxwells  mostly  look  at  one  so 
very  much  de  haughty  bar  that  they  seem  to  belong 
to  another  world  altogether." 

Flo  was  puzzled  for  a  minute  or  so  to  think  what 
"  de  haughty  bar"  could  possibly  mean.  Then  she 
grasped  the  good  lady's  meaning,  but  did  not  like  to 
repeat  the  phrase  lest  she  should  seem  to  be  correct- 
ing her.  "  I  don't  think,"  she  said,  gently,  "  that 
there  seems  to  be  anything  of  that  kind  about  them. 
They  all  seem  very  fond  of  Mrs.  Wilson,  and  there 
is  no  sham  about  their  relative  positions." 

"  That's  very  true.  I  always  say  to  Mr.  Johnson- 
Biggs  that  I  was  born  just  too  high.  If  you  are 
not  born  with  a  title,  in  the  purple,  so  to  speak,  you 
do  better  to  have  come  right  out  of  the  gutter.  A 
man  who  starts  with  a  good  grammar-school  educa- 
tion has  no  chance  against  one  that  began  with  four- 
pence  a  day  as  a  pit-boy,  or  as  a  nipper  in  works  of 
some  kind.  It's  because  education  makes  people 
sensitive, — yes,  that's  it.  They  haven't  the  same 
push  in  them." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

UNDER   THE   VENEER. 

Human  nature  is  human  nature,  whether  it  wears  velvet  or  fustian, 
or  whether  it  abides  in  a  palace  or  a  hovel. 

THE  reception  days  once  over,  the  young  couple 
began  to  look  out  for  a  nest  of  their  own.  Flo,  be- 
ing wholly  ignorant  of  Mullingham  and  its  traditions, 
had  but  little  to  say  on  the  question  of  locality.  All 
that  she  concerned  herself  with  was  that  the  house 
should  not  be  too  near,  or,  indeed,  at  all  near  to  the 
domicile  of  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs.  "  I  daresay  she  is 
most  desirable  and  good  and  all  that,  Matt,"  she  said, 
"  but  I  have  never  been  used  to  chumming  up  with 
just  that  kind  of  woman,  and  I  don't  think  I  could 
stand  her  being  my  intimate  friend  and  neighbour. 
I  think  one  gets  like  that  when  one  has  been  used  to 
keeping  office  hours, — one  somehow  never  knows 
the  real  domesticated  sort  of  person." 

"  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  is  horrid,"  Matt  declared, 
with  the  most  uncompromising  plainness.  "  My 
mother  tolerates  her  because  her  husband  is  useful 
— well,  almost  essential — to  my  father ;  none  of  the 
girls  can  stand  her  at  any  price.  Besides  that,  I 
don't  want  to  be  anywhere  near  the  Works ;  I  get 
76 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  77 

enough  of  them  without  living  near  to  them,  espe- 
cially as  I  cycle  both  ways.  I  believe  it  would  be 
best  to  go  a  little  further  out  of  their  way,  then  we 
should  be  near  enough  to  my  people  and  not  too 
near  any  one  we  want  to  get  out  of  the  way  of." 

Eventually  they  decided  upon  taking  a  house 
about  half  a  mile  beyond  the  Abode.  It  was  a 
charming  place,  a  pretty  two-storied  villa  with  wide 
eaves  and  French  windows,  standing  in  a  large  gar- 
den. It  had  a  good  entrance,  a  pleasant  drawing- 
room,  a  charming  conservatory,  and  an  exceptionally 
good  staircase.  "  Even  a  full-sized  tennis-ground," 
said  Matt,  in  a  jubilant  tone. 

So  it  soon  became  known  amongst  the  friends  of 
the  Gorman  family  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Matthew  had 
taken  "  The  Larches"  for  three  years. 

It  happened  on  the  day  that  Flo  went  to  return 
the  call  of  that  excellent  lady,  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs, 
that  she  was  by  force  of  circumstances  obliged  to  go 
alone,  as  her  husband  had  to  run  over  to  another 
large  manufacturing  town  about  twenty  miles  away. 
"  Get  one  of  the  girls  to  go  with  you,"  was  his  last 
suggestion  before  leaving  home. 

But  Flo  did  not  do  so.  She  learned  incidentally 
that  the  girls  had  all  some  engagement  on  hand,  so, 
as  she  had  made  up  her  mind  that  Mrs.  Johnson- 
Biggs's  visit  should  be  returned  that  day,  she  went 
alone.  The  lady  greeted  her  with  effusion. 


78  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  When  are  you  coming  to  look  over  No.  6  ?"  she 
enquired. 

"  No.  6,— what  is  No.  6  ?"  asked  Flo. 

"  The  house  in  this  road  that  I  was  telling  you  of 
the  other  day,"  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  replied. 

"  Oh,  we  have  taken  a  house,"  cried  Flo.  "  We 
have  taken  '  The  Larches/  on  the  Sudbury  Road,  you 
know." 

"  Indeed !  Then  my  well-meant  efforts  to  assist 
you  in  your  search  have  been  taken  for  nothing.  I 
had  got  the  key  from  the  owner,  and " 

"  Oh,  dear,  I  am  so  sorry,"  Flo  cried,  in  genuine 
compunction.  "  I  did  not  in  the  least  understand 
that  you  were  going  to  busy  yourself  to  take  any 
trouble  over  it.  Do  forgive  me.  I  quite  misunder- 
stood you." 

"  I  never  take  offence,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs ; 
"  but  when  my  advances  are  misunderstood,  I  shrink." 

The  tone  and  the  manner  aroused  Flo  to  a  sense 
of  her  own  rights  instantly.  "  Of  course,  to  take  of- 
fence about  such  a  thing  would  be  extremely  fool- 
ish," she  said,  promptly.  "  For  so  many  questions 
have  to  be  taken  into  consideration  in  choosing  a 
house.  Now,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  did  mention  to 
my  husband  that  you  had  told  me  of  a  house  near 
to  yours,  but  he  objected  to  it  because  it  was  too 
near  the  Works." 

"  The  young  men  of  the  present  day  are  like  that," 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  79 

said  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs,  sententiously.  "  Business 
in  business  hours,  and  otherwise  dissociate  yourself 
from  it  as  far  as  possible.  However,  we  must  all 
judge  for  ourselves.  I  am  a  Peacemaker  by  the 
spirit  as  well  as  the  letter,  and  I  wish  to  be  at  peace 
with  the  whole  world.  Not  but  what — as  I  have 
often  said  to  Mr.  Gorman — the  evil  of  the  world 
creeps  in  even  among  our  enlightened  few,  and  frets 
as  a  moth  doth  fret  a  garment." 

"  I  am  afraid  none  of  us  will  find  perfect  peace  in 
this  world,"  said  Flo,  beginning  to  wonder  if  she 
could  not  soon  cut  her  visit  short. 

"  Never — never,"  said  the  other,  with  a  portentous 
shake  of  the  head ;  "  it  is  a  contentious  world,  and 
sad  is  the  pity  of  it.  However,  we  cannot  hope  to 
alter  it ;  we  can  only  go  each  doing  our  trifle  towards 
the  general  welfare.  But,  Mrs.  Matthew,  this  is  a 
triste  subject  of  conversation  for  a  young  thing  like 
you.  Do  tell  me,  are  you  very  gay  just  now  ?" 

"  Fairly  so,"  Flo  replied,  glad  enough  to  change 
the  subject. 

They  chatted  then  amicably  on  various  matters, 
and  Flo  noticed  that,  whatever  little  failings  Mrs. 
Johnson-Biggs  might  have,  she  certainly  served  the 
tea  with  good  taste  and  daintiness;  in  fact,  it  was 
quite  a  pleasant  little  meal,  and  she  enjoyed  it  ex- 
ceedingly. 

"  You  will  come  again,  often,  I  hope,"  said  Mrs. 


8o  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

Johnson-Biggs,  as  Flo  took  her  hand  at  parting. 
"  We  are  not  rich,  but  we  wish  well  to  all  the  world. 
By  the  way,  have  you  been  to  see  Mrs.  Wilson  yet  ?" 

"  No,  not  yet.  I  thought  of  going  there  to-mor- 
row," Flo  replied. 

Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  drew  herself  up  with  an  air  of 
gratified  pride  which  was  plain  to  be  seen.  "  A  good 
soul,"  she  said,  in  a  patronizing  tone,  "  but  common, 
— so  common." 

"Yet  she  seems  to  be  a  very  real  peacemaker," 
said  Flo,  not,  perhaps,  without  a  spice  of  mis- 
chief. 

"  Yes,  yes,  a  good  soul,  as  I  say.  Well,  good-bye, 
dear  Mrs.  Matthew ;  your  visit  has  been  a  great  pleas- 
ure to  me." 

That  evening  during  dinner  Flo  happened  to  men- 
tion where  she  had  been  during  the  day,  and  at  once 
her  sisters-in-law  began  to  reproach  her  for  not 
having  waited  until  they  could,  one  or  more  of  them, 
have  gone  to  return  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs's  visit  with 
her.  "  The  idea  of  your  going  all  by  your  little  self 
and  facing  such  an  ordeal !"  Beth  cried.  "  There  was 
no  hurry  to  go  there.  Any  day  would  have  done  for 
her." 

"  I  am  glad  that  Flo  lost  no  time  in  paying  that 
particular  call,"  put  in  Mr.  Gorman  at  the  moment. 
"  Mrs.  Biggs  may  be  a  foolish  woman  and  an  insin- 
cere one,  and  one  it  is  not  incumbent  upon  Flo  to 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  81 

become  in  any  way  intimate  with,  but  William  Biggs 
is  one  of  my  right  hands  at  the  Works  and  I  could 
ill  spare  him,  while  it  would  pain  me  greatly  to  think 
that  either  he  or  his  wife  were  slighted  ever  so  little 
at  the  hands  of  any  of  my  children." 

"  I  am  sure,  father,"  said  Beth,  with  rising  colour, 
"  that  we  always  make  a  point  of  being  especially 
civil  to  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs,  and  it  is  not  always 
easy,  for  she  is  a  silly,  pretentious,  ridiculous  woman, 
with  whom,  but  for  her  husband,  we  should  never 
trouble  to  be  on  terms  of  any  kind.  I,  for  one,  can- 
not endure  her,  and  I  do  think  it  is  hard  on  poor 
Flo  that  she  should  think  it  necessary  to  go  all 
alone  to  brave  her  airs  and  graces." 

"  It  has  not  hurt  me,"  cried  Flo,  with  a  laugh. 
"  Let  us  hope  that  I  may  never  have  anything  worse 
to  try  me,  that's  all." 

Mrs.  Gorman  gave  her  a  quick  look,  as  of  com- 
mendation, but  Mr.  Gorman  glanced  rather  severely 
at  Beth.  "  I  am  afraid,  my  child,"  he  said,  "  that 
my  teaching  has  been  in  many  cases  wholly  without 
fruit.  It  pains  me  to  hear  you  speak  in  such  a  way 
of  one  who  comes  to  my  house  as  a  friend.  It  is 
incompatible  with  all  the  tenets  of  our  faith.  You 
should  try  to  cultivate  a  more  genial  feeling  towards 
those  whom  you  dislike  needlessly.  Your  reward 
would  be  a  thousand-fold.  And  besides  that,  I 
greatly  dislike  to  hear  wholesale  and  sweeping  judg- 

6 


82  THE  PEACEMAKERS. 

ments,  more  particularly  from  the  young,  those  who 
have  not  as  yet  been  tried  in  the  fire  and  who  see 
only  the  outside  of  things,  and  who  have  not  suffi- 
cient experience  of  the  deeper  side  of  life  to  be  able 
to  see  below  the  surface.  I  grant  you  that  Mrs. 
Biggs  has  certainly  affectations  of  manner  and  cer- 
tain little  failings  of  disposition  which  she  would  be 
better  without.  But  I  do  know  this,  that  she  has 
had  a  hard  struggle  in  many  ways,  that  she  has 
been  a  good  and  faithful  wife  to  William  Biggs,  and 
that  is  a  great  set-off  to  the  folly  of  calling  herself 
Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs,  with  a  little  dash  between  the 
two  which  is  not  actually  hers  by  right." 

"  But  if  it  is  not  hers  by  right,  she  is  guilty  of  a 
fraud  in  using  it,"  exclaimed  Beth,  rather  hotly. 

"  In  the  strict  letter  .  .  .  yes,  perhaps  she  is,"  Mr. 
Gorman  replied.  "  In  actuality  the  little  dash  does 
no  one  any  harm,  takes  away  the  right  of  no  one 
else,  and  is  a  foible,  nothing  more.  You  should  try 
to  look  at  the  good  in  people,  my  dear,  to  live  in 
peace  and  amity  ...  in  real  amity  .  .  .  with  all 
men.  Then,  and  not  before,  you  will  have  peace, 
the  most  precious  gift  in  all  the  world." 

As  these  words  passed  the  old  man's  lips,  Flo 
happened  to  be  looking  at  her  mother-in-law.  She 
saw  that  she  opened  her  mouth  eagerly,  as  if  she 
were  going  to  say  something  almost  against  her 
will ;  then  she  closed  it  resolutely,  and  helped  her- 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  83 

self  to  a  dish  which  the  footman  handed  to  her  at 
that  moment. 

Just  then  Matt,  seeing  that  the  hot  blood  had 
flushed  to  Beth's  young  face,  plunged  into  the  con- 
versation. "  I  suppose  she  was  pleased  to  see  you," 
he  said  to  Flo,  "  and  civil  and  all  that." 

"  Oh,  very  much  so,"  Flo  made  haste  to  reply. 
"  She  gave  me  quite  a  lovely  tea,  and  asked  me  to 
come  again  as  often  as  I  liked.  And  then  I  went 
down  to  the  town  and  ...  I  spent  some  money  to 
my  great  satisfaction." 

"  What  did  you  buy  ?"  was  the  general  cry,  every 
one  being  but  too  thankful  to  be  got  off  the  sub- 
ject of  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  and  the  duties  of  good 
peacemakers. 

"A  doll,"  answered  Flo. 

"A  doll  .  .  .  and  for  whom?"  It  was  Matty 
who  spoke. 

"  Well,  I  was  going  to  get  some  gloves,  and  I  hap- 
pened to  see  a  poor  little  child  get  as  bad  a  knock 
over  as  I  ever  saw  in  all  my  life,  not  to  be  smashed 
up  altogether,  don't  you  know.  I  picked  her  up, 
and  the  man  who  knocked  her  over  drove  on  with- 
out a  word." 

"  The  brute  !"  cried  Matt,  indignantly.  "  Who  was 
he  ?  Oh,  but  of  course  you  would  not  know.  Was 
she  much  hurt  ?" 

"  She  was  pretty  badly  bruised,"  Flo  replied.     "  I 


84  THE  PEACEMAKERS. 

took  her  into  a  chemist's  to  have  her  looked  to  and 
to  see  whether  it  was  necessary  to  take  her  to  a 
doctor  or  a  hospital.  She  was  badly  bruised,  but 
that  was  all.  As  he  said,  these  little  ones'  bones  are 
soft  and  don't  snap  as  ours  might  do.  The  chemist 
gave  her  a  pick-up,  and  we  soothed  her  down,  and 
then  I  took  her  to  a  toy-shop  near  at  hand  and 
bought  her  a  big  doll,  to  her  immense  gratification. 
I  think  she  would  even  have  rather  liked  to  be 
knocked  down  over  again." 

"  Poor  little  soul,"  murmured  Mrs.  Gorman,  softly. 
"  Flo  dear,  I  should  like  to  pay  for  that  doll." 

"  We  will  look  her  out  and  do  something  for  her," 
put  in  Mr.  Gorman  from  the  other  end  of  the  table. 

"  What  I  would  like  to  find  out  is  ...  who  was 
the  man,"  said  Matt. 

"  I  asked  a  bystander  his  name,"  answered  Flo, 
*'  but  his  reply  was  so  very  much  the  reverse  of  po- 
lite that  I  really  cannot  repeat  it.  But  he  told  me 
his  name ;  it  is  de  Kloof." 

"By  Jove!"  ejaculated  Matt,  in  great  astonish- 
ment. "  You  don't  say  so  ?" 

"  Why,  do  you  know  him  ?"  Flo  cried,  surprised 
at  her  husband's  tone.  "  I  fancied  from  what  the 
man  told  me  that  he  was  no  one  belonging  to  Mul- 
lingham.  He  called  him,  among  other  things,  a 
blackmailing  Jew  from  London." 

"But  don't  you  remember  the  story  that  John 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  85 

Strode  told  us  about  Lady  Mullingham's  diamonds 
.  .  .  the  first  night  you  ever  came  here  ?" 

"  O — h,  that  man !"  Flo  exclaimed,  enlightened  now 
as  to  Mr.  de  Kloof's  identity. 

"  Of  course,  you  did  not  hear  the  child's  name," 
said  Matt. 

"  Yes,  I  did.     It  was  Turner, — Lizzie  Turner." 

"  Turner.  Ah !  That  is  scarcely  identification 
enough  in  Mullingham.  There  are  hundreds  of 
Turners  here." 

Before  they  had  finished  dinner,  however,  the  but- 
ler came  in  and  made  a  confidential  communication 
to  Matt;  and  Matt  looked  across  the  table  at  Flo 
with  a  laugh.  "  I  am  afraid  your  sin  has  already 
found  you  out,"  he  said.  "  One  Robert  Turner  is 
here  and  wishes  to  see  me  '  particular'  for  two  min- 
utes. You'll  excuse  me,  mother,  won't  you  ?" 

Mrs.  Gorman  smiled  her  assent,  and  Matt  left  the 
table  and  went  out  of  the  room.  In  a  very  short 
time  he  came  back.  "  I  was  right,"  he  said,  tri- 
umphantly. "  I  guessed  it  was  the  child's  father 
come  to  thank  you  and  to  get  information  if  he 
could.  Do  you  mind  coming  to  speak  to  him  ?" 

"  We  will  all  go,"  said  Mrs.  Gorman.  "  We  can 
come  back  for  our  dessert  and  coffee." 

So  they  all  trooped  out  to  the  morning-room 
where  William  had  shown  the  visitor.  He  was 
standing  near  to  the  fireplace,  a  decently  dressed 


86  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

workingman  who  had  evidently  been  cleaned  up  for 
the  occasion.  As  Mr.  Gorman  entered  the  room  he 
at  once  recognised  him  as  one  of  his  own  workmen 
and  held  out  his  hand.  "  My  son's  wife  was  telling 
us  about  the  accident  just  before  you  came,  Turner," 
he  said,  in  a  sympathetic  tone.  "  I  hope  the  child  is 
no  worse." 

"  Peace  be  with  you,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  respect- 
fully. "  My  little  lass  is  not  much  the  worse,  least- 
ways there  are  no  bones  broke ;  but  she's  sadly 
bruised  and  shook,  and  I  left  her  mother  trying  to 
get  her  to  sleep,  and  I  doubt  she  had  a  heavy  task 
in  front  of  her.  I'd  rather  have  stayed  and  helped 
to  get  her  off,  for  I  always  did  believe  in  doing  the 
job  first  that  comes  nighest  to  hand ;  but  my  missis, 
she's  like  all  women,  saving  your  presence,  ma'am," 
with  a  bow  towards  Mrs.  Gorman,  who  smiled  in- 
dulgently. "  The  little  'un  keeps  sobbing  and  crying 
and  calling  out  the  horse  is  upon  her,  and  that  she'll 
be  killed  before  she  can  get  out  of  the  way,  and  then 
my  missis  she  ramps  and  raves,  and  nothing  will  sat- 
isfy her  but  that  she  must  have  the  man's  blood,  and 
I  don't  know  who  the  feller  was,  and  my  neighbours 
tell  me  that  a  man  standing  by  told  the  lady  who  he 
was,  and  naught  will  satisfy  my  missis  but  that  I 
should  clean  myself  and  come  along  to  give  her 
heartfelt  thanks  and  find  out  who  the  feller  was.  I 
represented  that  it  wasn't  exactly  seemly  to  be  coming 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  87 

so  late  of  a  night,  but  she  wouldn't  even  hear  me. 
She  says,  says  she,  that  the  master  has  a  tender 
heart,  and  that  the  family  was  human  beings  like 
ourselves,  even  if  they  do  eat  their  dinner  at  supper- 
time.  I'm  sure  I  hope  you'll  excuse  her,  ladies  and 
gentlemen." 

"  Of  course,  even  if  there  was  anything  to  excuse, 
which  there  certainly  is  not,"  said  Mrs.  Gorman, 
kindly.  "  I  am  sorry,  Turner,  that  the  poor  little 
thing  is  so  upset.  I  only  hope  it  won't  cause  her 
any  permanent  injury.  I  have  a  horror  of  harm  to 
a  child's  nerves,  for  one  never  knows  when  or  where 
it  may  stop." 

"  Thank  you  kindly,  indeed,  ma'am,"  said  Turner, 
gratefully.  "  Then  did  Mrs.  Matthew  hear  the  gen- 
tleman's name  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  did  .  .  ."  Flo  began,  when  Mr.  Gor- 
man broke  in. 

"  Turner,"  he  said,  gently,  "  cannot  you  persuade 
your  wife  that  to  forget  and  forgive  is  to  show  the 
most  divine.  .  .  ." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't,  sir,"  Turner  replied,  promptly. 
"  If  I  go  back  without  finding  out  something  about  it, 
my  missis  will  give  me  no  peace  of  my  life.  You  see, 
sir,  she's  only  human  like  other  women,  and  when 
it  touches  her  bairns,  she's  apt  to  get  tigerish,  just 
as  every  other  woman  would.  Think,  sir,  if  it  was 
a  little  child  of  your  own  that  a  feller  had  ridden 


88  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

over  with  no  more  compassion  than  you'd  give  to  a 
dog.  How'd  you  feel  yourself,  sir?" 

Mr.  Gorman  threw  out  his  hand  with  an  im- 
pulsive gesture  and  opened  his  mouth  as  if  to  speak ; 
then  he  seemed  to  change  his  mind,  and  his  hand 
fell  to  his  side  again.  "  I  have  nothing  to  say  to 
that,  Turner,"  he  said,  in  a  strange,  strained  voice. 
"  Flo,  my  dear,  if  you  have  anything  to  tell,  tell 
it." 

"The  name  of  the  .  .  .  the  .  .  .  man  who 
knocked  down  your  little  child  to-day  was  de 
Kloof,"  Flo  said  to  Turner. 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am,  thank  you,"  he  said.  "  And 
can  you  add  to  your  kindness  by  telling  me  where 
he  lives  ?" 

Flo  looked  at  her  husband. 

"  Mr.  de  Kloof,"  said  Matt,  "  lives  at  Allingham 
Towers.  He  bought  the  place  of  Colonel  Carstairs 
some  two  years  ago." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  thank  you,"  said  Turner.  "  I'll 
send  over  and  communicate  with  Mr.  de  Kloof  to- 
morrow. I  should  think  if  I  was  to  go  to  Mr. 
Yarborough  it  would  be  the  best  thing  I  could  do." 

Mr.  Yarborough  was  the  solicitor  to  the  Works, 
and  like  the  doctor  was  supposed  to  look  after  the 
interests  of  all  and  sundry  connected  even  in  the 
most  remote  manner  with  Mr.  Gorman's  great  busi- 
ness. "  I  am  sure  that  Mr.  Yarborough  would  ad- 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  89 

vise  you  as  to  your  best  course,"  said  Matt.  "  Don't 
you  think  so,  sir  ?"  appealing  to  his  father. 

"  Yes,  I  am  sure  of  it,"  replied  Mr.  Gorman,  in  a 
stifled  tone,  as  he  turned  away. 

"Then  I'll  go  back  and  tell  my  missis,"  said 
Turner,  with  deep  satisfaction. 

"  And  you  shall  take  a  few  sweet  things  and  some 
fruit  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Gorman,  kindly.  "  Poor 
little  darling,  she  may  have  a  bad  night,  and  such 
things  help  children  to  forget." 

Before  the  words  had  left  her  mother's  lips  Beth 
slipped  out  of  the  room,  returning  with  a  cardboard 
box  which  had  once  held  a  pair  of  smart  satin  slip- 
pers. This  was  rilled  to  overflowing  with  fruit  and 
good  things  such  as  little  folk  love,  and  she  put  it 
into  the  man's  hands  with  a  pleasant  word  such  as 
made  the  gift  doubly  sweet. 

"  I  thank  you,  ladies,  with  all  my  heart,  and  my 
missis,  too.  And  my  little  maid  will  when  she's 
older,  even  if  she  doesn't  now.  As  for  Mrs.  Mat- 
thew, we've  no  words  .  .  .  but  our  hearts  is  full." 
He  put  out  his  hand  as  Flo  stretched  out  hers,  and 
shook  as  warmly  as  a  man  of  his  class  ever  does 
shake  hands. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Matt  to  his  wife,  as  they 
all  went  back  to  the  dining-room  again,  "  you  have 
made  your  reputation  with  the  people  at  the  Works 
for  ever.  Mullingham  folks  are  rough  and  ready, 


90  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

very  independent  and  sturdy,  very  rude  and  brusque 
at  times,  but  they're  all  right  down  at  the  bottom. 
Once  win  them  and  you  win  them  for  good  and  all. 
There  are  no  half  measures  about  Mullingham  folk, 
are  there,  mother  ?" 

"  No,  nor  if  you  are  unlucky  enough  to  win  their 
hatred,"  replied  his  mother,  smiling. 

Mr.  Gorman  alone  seemed  to  have  nothing  to  say. 
He  sat  down  in  his  place  and  drank  his  coffee  with 
an  abstracted  air,  and  when  he  had  finished  it, 
he  looked  at  his  wife  and  asked  her  to  excuse 
him. 

"What  a  pity  poor  Turner  did  not  have  sense 
enough  to  forego  his  special  scheme  of  revenge !" 
exclaimed  Beth,  as  the  door  closed  behind  her 
father.  "  Father  would  never  have  forgotten  it,  and 
as  the  child  is  not  much  hurt,  it  would  have  paid 
Turner  very  much  better  to  have  pleased  him  rather 
than  to  have  gone  for  this  Mr.  de  Kloof.  How 
shortsighted  most  people,  and  especially  working 
people,  always  are !" 

"  Beth  /"  cried  Mrs.  Gorman,  in  a  shocked  voice. 
"  My  dear  child,  I  wish  you  would  not  let  your 
tongue  run  away  with  your  wits  as  you  do." 

"  It's  perfectly  true,  mother,"  cried  Beth,  who  was 
a  rebellious  young  soul  and  never  cared  to  choose 
her  words  overwell.  "  If  Turner  had  had  sense 
enough,  he  would  have  at  least  promised  to  talk  his 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  91 

missis  over  to  father's  way  of  thinking.  He  will  get 
little  or  nothing  out  of  the  Jew  man." 

"All  the  same,"  said  Flo,  speaking  very  decidedly, 
"  Jews  are,  as  a  rule,  extremely  fond  of  and  good  to 
children." 

"  In  any  case  your  father  would  much  rather  that 
Turner,  or  any  one  else  he  knew,  was  honest  and 
straight  in  all  and  every  relation  of  life,"  said  Mrs. 
Gorman  with  dignity.  "I  am  sure  that  nothing 
would  grieve  him  and  pain  him  more  than  to  know 
that  his  advice  was  taken  from  mere  mercenary 
motives." 

"Which  it  very  often  is,"  flashed  out  the  irre- 
pressible Beth. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   DIFFERENCE   IN   A   CHOICE. 

Injustice  would  often  pass  unnoticed  if  it  were  not  for  the  incon- 
sistency which  so  frequently  attends  it. 

THE  following  evening,  when  the  Gorman  family 
was  assembled  at  the  dinner-table,  Mr.  Gorman,  when 
he  had  blessed  the  food,  looked  around  with  a  smile 
of  intensest  satisfaction.  "  I  have  something  to  tell 
you  all,"  he  said.  "  I  went  to  see  that  poor  little 
child  to-day,  and  ..." 

"  They've  let  de  Kloof  off,"  muttered  Beth,  in  a 
quick  whisper. 

"...  and  I  am  pleased  to  be  able  to  tell  you  that 
Mrs.  Turner,  poor  soul,  has  agreed  that  it  would  be 
foolish  and  contentious  to  take  any  definite  action 
against  this  man  de  Kloof.  But  I  have  instructed 
Mr.  Yarborough  to  write  him  a  temperate  letter, 
pointing  out  that  the  child  has  been  severely  bruised, 
and  suggesting  that  he  make  some  compensation  for 
his  carelessness." 

"  What  does  Yarborough  put  it  at  ...  a  fiver  ?" 
Matt  enquired. 

"  Thereabouts,"  replied  Mr.  Gorman. 

After  this  the  subject  was  dismissed,  and  was  ap- 
parently forgotten.  Matt  and  Flo  were  extremely 
92 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  93 

busy  looking  to  the  details  of  their  new  house  and 
in  trying  to  keep  pace  with  the  many  invitations 
which  poured  in  upon  them.  It  was  not  until  they 
found  themselves  settled  down  at "  The  Larches,"  and 
began  to  be  socially  somewhat  more  quiet,  that  Flo 
saw  very  much  more  of  the  little  congregation  which 
went  by  the  name  of  the  Peacemakers.  On  several 
Sundays  she  and  Matt  had  gone  out  into  the  country 
to  spend  the  day  with  old  friends  of  his,  and  twice 
they  had  paid  Friday  to  Monday  visits  to  London  in 
order  that  they  might  get  certain  things  not  easily 
obtainable  in  Mullingham.  So  it  happened  that 
during  several  weeks  they  were  not  seen  at  the 
sanctuary,  and  when,  on  the  first  Sunday  of  their 
residence  at  "  The  Larches,"  they  did  make  their  ap- 
pearance there,  Mrs.  Matt  found  herself  the  object 
of  considerable  attention  of  a  kind  which  was  not 
altogether  pleasant  to  her. 

"  I  quite  thought  that  you  were  going  to  attend 
sanctuary  regularly,"  remarked  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs, 
as  she  shook  hands  at  the  door. 

"  So  I  am,"  returned  Flo,  with  a  smile.  "  But  for 
several  Sundays  we  have  been  away  from  home." 

"  Oh,  I  am  glad  of  that.  I  should  not  like  to  see 
either  you  or  Mr.  Matthew  falling  away  from  the 
faith,"  was  the  lady's  comment.  "Are  you  quite 
settled  in  your  new  house?" 

"  Quite,  thank  you,"  Flo  replied ;  then  asked  a 


94  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

few  polite  questions  as  to  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs's 
health,  wondering  the  while  why  the  Gormans  were 
so  long  in  coming. 

"  It  was  a  sweet  discourse  this  morning,"  said  Mrs. 
Johnson- Biggs,  who  was  determined  to  keep  "the 
bride,"  as  Flo  was  still  called  in  the  Gorman  circle, 
as  long  as  she  could.  "  I  thought  the  dear  pastor 
so  true  in  what  he  said  about  not  picking  holes  in 
our  neighbours.  The  text '  Let  brotherly  love  ensue' 
was  excellently  worked  out,  and  must  have  gone 
home  to  a  good  many  hearts  this  morning.  Oh, 
Miss  Rachel,  how  you  did  make  me  jump!"  she  ex- 
claimed, as  tall  Rachel  came  behind  her  and  stood 
close  against  her. 

"Ah,  I  believe  that  was  your  conscience,  Mrs. 
Johnson-Biggs,"  Rachel  cried.  "  That  sermon  went 
home.  I  thought  you  looked  like  it." 

"  To  some  present  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  it  did, 
Miss  Rachel,"  was  the  crushing  reply.  "  For  my- 
self, I  am  thankful  to  say  that  my  heart  is  at  peace 
and  that  I  dwell  in  amity  with  all  men.  It  would  be 
well  if  all  of  us  could  say  as  much." 

"  They  can't,"  cried  Rachel,  laughing.  "  Mrs. 
Wilson  alone  perhaps  excepted.  And  here  she 
comes.  Talk  of  the  .  .  ." 

"  My  dear  Miss  Rachel,  and  you  just  out  of  sanct- 
uary!" exclaimed  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs,  genuinely 
scandalized  by  the  girl's  remark. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  95 

Rachel  made  great  eyes  of  innocence.  "  Why, 
dear  lady,"  she  cried,  "  I  was  only  going  to  say  that 
if  you  talk  of  the  angels  you  will  hear  their  wings. 
You  evidently  know  a  much  naughtier  version  of 
the  same  saying.  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs,  I  am  sur- 
prised at  you." 

"  You  will  have  your  fun,  Miss  Rachel,"  the  other 
returned,  holding  out  her  hand ;  but  she  moved  away 
in  a  certain  amount  of  confusion,  and  the  colour  had 
mounted  to  her  very  eyes. 

"  You  were  rather  hard  on  her,  Rachel,"  said  Flo, 
compassionately. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  Rachel  replied,  sturdily.  "  I 
do  think  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  is  the  ve'ry  biggest 
hypocrite  I  ever  knew  in  all  my  life.  She  a  Peace- 
maker, indeed !  .  .  .  Horrid,  tittle-tattling,  mischief- 
making  cat !  that's  what  she  is.  I  can't  endure  her. 
I  can't  stand  her  at  any  price." 

Flo  laughed.  "  Oh,  well,  she  might  be  worse,  and 
she  might  come  much  more  into  your  lives  than  she 
does.  If  you  had  to  be  very  intimate  with  her  and 
to  meet  her  every  day  and  wherever  you  went,  it 
would  be  ever  so  much  more  difficult.  As  it  is,  she 
is  only  an  incident,  so  to  speak."  She  dismissed  the 
subject  then  in  a  way  that  was  peculiarly  her  own, 
and  went  on  talking  about  other  things,  so  that 
Rachel,  who  was,  she  had  already  found  out,  rather 
fond  of  wearing  a  grievance  to  death,  had  no  chance 


96  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

of  continuing  it.  Nothing  more  was  said  that  day 
about  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs,  but  without  doubt  Rachel 
was  ruffled  and  unlike  herself,  and  once  or  twice  Flo 
looked  at  her  in  wondering  enquiry. 

"  What  is  amiss  with  Rachel  to-day  ?"  she  said  to 
Matty  when  at  last  she  found  herself  in  her  eldest 
sister-in-law's  room. 

"  Oh,  poor  Rachel !"  laughed  Matty.  "  Things  are 
not  going  very  easily  with  her  these  last  few  days. 
The  redoubtable  John  Strode  is  to  the  front  again. 
He  wants  an  answer,  and  won't  take  no  for  it." 

"  Rachel  couldn't  marry  a  creature  like  John 
Strode,"  cried  Flo,  indignantly.  "  Why  doesn't  your 
father  tell  him  so,  and  bring  things  to  a  proper 
end  ?" 

"  Because  my  father  thinks  Rachel  might  as  well 
marry  John  Strode  as  any  one  else,"  answered  Matty, 
promptly.  "  Tell  me,  Flo,  has  it  never  struck  you 
as  rather  strange  that  we  girls  are  all  unmarried? 
Rachel  is  seventeen, — nearly  eighteen,  in  fact, — and 
she  is  the  youngest  of  us  all.  I  am  a  year  older 
than  Matt.  I  should  have  been  married  years  and 
years  ago  if  it  had  not  been  for  an  idea  of  my  father's 
that  he  knew  better  what  sort  of  man  I  wanted  than 
I  did." 

"  But  .  .  ."  cried  Flo,  indignantly,  "  what  differ- 
ence can  it  make  to  your  father?  I  thought  he  was 
so  keen  on  young  people  pleasing  themselves.  He 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  97 

never  raised  the  very  smallest  objection  to  our  being 
married.  And  Matt  must  have  known  heaps  of  girls 
with  money  or  influence,  while  I  have  neither  the  one 
nor  the  other." 

"Yes,  but  you  were  Matt's  choice.  How  many 
times  did  not  father  impress  that  upon  you  both, — 
upon  every  one  of  us  ?" 

"  But  John  Strode  is  most  emphatically  not  Rachel's 
choice,"  Flo  exclaimed. 

"  With  father  that  does  not  count ;  ...  it  is  only 
the  men  who  count,"  Matty  declared.  "  Oh,  I  can't 
explain  it  all  to  you  .  .  .  you'll  find  it  all  out  in 
time."  Then  there  was  a  moment's  silence,  after 
which  Matty,  with  one  swift  glance  at  her  sister-in- 
law,  burst  out  as  if  she  was  getting  something  off 
her  mind.  "  Look  here,  Flo,"  she  exclaimed,  in  an 
odd,  breathless  kind  of  way,  "  when  you've  got  to 
know  us  better  than  you  do  now,  you'll  find  out  what 
possibly  even  Matt  has  never  known  .  .  .  that  it 
isn't  all  quite  as  it  seems,  this  Peacemaking  creed  of 
ours ;  there  is  very  little  of  peace  about  it.  If  we 
young  ones  stick  to  it,  it  is  to  please  our  mother,  who 
is  a  saint  if  ever  there  was  one  on  earth,  and  in  no 
sense  because  we  wish  to  curry  favour  with  our 
father,  as  is  the  case  with  half  the  people  who  fill  the 
sanctuary  every  Sunday  that  ever  is.  As  for  what 
you  may  say  about  my  father  having  accepted  you 
without  a  word  as  to  your  fortune  or  your  influence 

7 


98  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

.  .  .  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  You  were  Matt's 
choice.  That  was  enough  for  him.  In  the  first 
place,  Matt  is  not  the  kind  of  fellow  who  would 
brook  interference  even  from  his  father,  though  a 
better  and  more  dutiful  son  never  lived  in  this  world. 
Still,  Matt  is  a  partner  in  the  Works,  not  a  depend- 
ant of  father's,  and  he  was  able  to  please  himself 
about  his  marriage,  and  he  did.  Again,  it  is  part  of 
father's  creed  that  a  man  shall  marry  the  girl  of  his 
heart,  though  he  never  seems  to  think  the  same  thing 
at  all  necessary  for  his  daughters.  He  would  will- 
ingly see  poor  Rachel  married  to  John  Strode  to- 
morrow, blatant  cad  as  he  is,  simply  because  he  is 
rich,  and  because  he  declares  that  Rachel  is  the  girl 
of  his  heart  and  that  he  cannot  be  happy  with  any 
other.  But  he  is  a  man,  and  men's  feelings  you  know 
are  strong  and  deep,  not  like  a  girl's,  which  are  easily 
satisfied  if  only  you  give  them  plenty  to  eat  and 
drink  and  a  warm  bed  to  lie  in,  as  you  do  for  the  cats. 
Girls  will  love  any  one  .  .  .  hush  .  .  sh  .  .  sh !  that's 
mother  coming;  not  a  word  to  her  .  .  .  she  can't 
bear  us  to  criticise  father  in  any  way." 

They  could  hear  Mrs.  Gorman  talking  to  some 
one  in  the  corridor. 

"  Tell  me,  quick,"  exclaimed  Flo,  in  a  breathless 
whisper  .  .  .  "Will  she  ever  give  in?  Will  she 
ever  let  herself  be  persuaded  to  marry  that  dreadful 
man  ?" 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  99 

"  Never,"  returned  Matty,  with  emphasis.  "  Rachel 
is  young,  but  she  is  not  weak,  and  she  would  die 
first." 

"  I'm  glad  of  that, '  murmured  Flo,  as  the  door 
opened  and  Mrs.  Gorman  came  into  the  room. 


CHAPTER    XL 

A  THUNDERBOLT. 

A  bold  move  is  a  very  fine  thing,  and  often  carries  the  day  for 
sheer  want  of  a  bolder  move  to  parry  it. 

As  soon  as  Matt  and  Flo  were  really  settled  in 
their  new  house  they  gave  a  dinner-party.  It  was  a 
very  serious  affair  for  Flo,  who  had  never  had  any 
say  in  the  giving  of  a  party  of  any  kind  in  all  her 
life  before;  but  she  found  in  her  mother-in-law  a 
great  tower  of  strength,  which  enabled  her  to  sail 
through  her  difficulties  without  feeling  in  any  way 
that  she  was  giving  up  her  rights  as  the  mistress  of 
"  The  Larches."  It  was  Mrs.  Gorman  who  made  the 
final  decisions  as  to  the  menu,  who  advised  Flo  what 
decorations  she  could  have  which  would  be  a  little 
out  of  the  common  and  original.  It  was  Mrs.  Gor- 
man who  instructed  her  as  to  who  should  take  who, 
and  who  gave  her  many  most  useful  hints  as  to  her 
best  plan  for  making  the  whole  affair  go  off  success- 
fully. And  the  entertainment  was  an  unqualified 
success  from  first  to  last,  and  more  than  one  lady 
said  plainly  to  Mrs.  Gorman  that  for  a  young  wife's 
first  dinner-party  everything  had  gone  off  wonder- 
fully well. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  101 

Of  course,  at  this  first  and  most  formal  party  of 
the  family  at  the  Abode  of  Peace,  only  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Gorman  had  been  present.  Flo  had  suggested  that 
at  least  two  of  her  sisters-in-law  should  join  them, 
but  the  girls  themselves  had  promptly  vetoed  any 
such  arrangement.  "  My  dear,"  said  Matty,  who 
was  a  young  woman  gifted  with  quite  her  full  share 
of  common  sense,  "  whatever  you  do,  don't  swamp 
your  first  dinner-party  with  relations.  If  you  ask 
father  and  mother,  that  is  all  that  is  necessary.  We 
don't  need  to  be  pushed  in  every  time  you  invite 
any  one  else.  We'll  come  to  your  next  one,  and  then 
you  need  not  ask  the  father  and  mother.  To  my 
mind  there  is  nothing  so  terrible  as  going  to  a  dinner 
and  finding  oneself  flanked  on  either  side  by  belong- 
ings of  the  house.  Don't  begin  it,  my  dear,  and 
then  you  will  never  have  to  lop  off  and  give  offence 
all  round  later  on." 

So  only  the  heads  of  the  family  were  bidden,  and 
Flo  suggested  to  Matt,  when  he  was  congratulating 
her  afterwards,  that  they  might  give  a  little  dinner 
specially  for  his  sisters.  "You  must  know  heaps  of 
men,  Matt,"  she  said.  "  I  mean  bachelors,  unattached 
men  who  would  love  to  come  to  a  young  dinner- 
party. What  do  you  think  ?" 

"  I  think  it's  a  splendid  idea,"  he  declared.  "  We'll 
get  the  invitations  out  at  once,  and  don't  let  on  who 
is  comingf." 


102  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

Accordingly  the  list  for  this  second  dinner  was 
kept  a  profound  secret  between  Matt  and  his  wife, 
and  not  even  Mrs.  Gorman  was  taken  into  their  con- 
fidence. Their  party  was  one  of  fourteen,  but  the 
previous  day  Matt,  when  he  got  home  to  dinner,  said 
to  his  wife,  ..."  I  say,  dearest,  I  don't  know  what 
you'll  say,  but  I've  taken  on  myself  to  ask  another 
man  for  to-morrow  evening." 

Flo  looked  rather  dismayed.  "Another  man, 
Matt !"  she  cried.  "  Why,  won't  that  upset  all  the 
table  ?  Hadn't  we  better  try  and  get  another  girl  ?" 

"We  might  do  that.  There's  Mary  Broughton. 
She  was  at  the  other  dinner  with  her  father,  but  we 
could  explain  the  circumstances,  and  I'm  sure  she 
would  come." 

"At  all  events,  we  can  ask  her,"  said  Flo,  who 
was  not  one  to  make  a  trouble  of  a  small  matter. 
"  And  who  is  the  man,  Matt  ?" 

"  A  very  nice  chap,  who  has  just  come  to  Mulling- 
ham.  He  has  bought  a  share  in  the  big  steel  works 
over  at  Ayton.  His  name  is  Barty, — Brooke  Barty." 

"  And  how  long  have  you  known  him  ?  I  never 
heard  you  speak  of  him  before,"  said  Flo,  who  was 
by  no  means  dismayed  at  such  a  desirable-sounding 
addition  to  her  party. 

"  My  dear  child,  I  never  saw  him  before  to-day. 
He  came  with  a  letter  of  introduction  from  a  fellow 
I  was  at  school  with,  my  greatest  chum  at  Harrow, 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  103 

and,  as  I  wanted  to  show  him  instant  hospitality,  I 
suggested  that  he  should  join  us  to-morrow.  He 
accepted  at  once  when  I  told  him  I  could  answer  for 
you." 

"All  right.  Then  I'll  go  round  the  first  thing 
after  breakfast  to  see  if  Miss  Broughton  will  not 
help  us  out  of  our  difficulty." 

The  result  of  this  arrangement  was  the  dinner  of 
the  following  evening  was  one  of  sixteen  instead  of 
seventeen.  Flo  awaited  with  some  anxiety  the  ad- 
vent of  the  stranger.  As  soon  as  he  entered  the 
room,  she  saw  that  he  would  prove  no  drawback  to 
her  entertainment.  He  was  a  tall  young  man  of 
seven-  or  eight-and-twenty  years  old,  fair-haired  and 
fair-skinned,  though  much  tanned  and  burned  by  an 
outdoor  life.  His  voice  was  pleasant  and  mellow, 
his  manner  quiet  and  easy,  his  dress  studiously  plain. 
Such  a  young  man,  in  fact,  as  Flo  had  not  often 
known,  though  she  had  seen  hundreds  of  his  class 
walking  about  the  West-end  of  London  when  she 
had  chanced  to  find  herself  in  fashionable  quarters 
thereof.  He  met  her  with  a  half  apology  for  his 
presence.  "  I  do  hope,  Mrs.  Gorman,"  he  said,  as 
she  went  forward  to  meet  him,  "  that  my  coming  to- 
night was  not  a  great  bore  to  you  and  did  not  put 
you  out  very  much.  Your  husband  simply  insisted 
on  my  coming,  and  hardly  left  me  any  choice." 

"  And  he  was  quite  right,"  declared  Flo,  in  friendly 


104  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

tones.  "  He  would  have  asked  you  to  dine  with  us 
under  the  circumstances  unless  we  had  actually  been 
going  out ;  and  surely  it  was  fortunate  that  we  hap- 
pened to  have  some  friends  dining  with  us  ...  only 
young  friends;  but  perhaps  you  won't  mind  that," 
she  added,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  have  no  rooted  objection  to  young  people,  cer- 
tainly," he  declared  promptly.  "And  very  often 
there  are  few  or  no  young  people  at  dinners,  so  that 
I  may  call  myself  very  much  in  luck's  way." 

Being  the  greatest  stranger,  and  one  to  whom 
she  wished  to  show  especial  honour,  Flo  intimated 
to  Matt's  new  friend  that  he  was  to  take  her  into 
dinner,  and  she  had  arranged  that  Miss  Broughton, 
who  had  come  to  her  rescue  in  the  matter  of  num- 
bers, should  sit  on  his  other  hand.  Miss  Broughton's 
cavalier,  however,  did  not  give  her  neighbour  very 
much  chance  of  talking  to  her,  and  Flo  found  that 
she  was  obliged  to  do  the  most  of  the  task  of  enter- 
taining him  herself.  It  was  towards  the  middle  of 
the  repast  that  Mr.  Barty  suddenly  put  a  plain  ques- 
tion to  her.  "  Mrs.  Gorman,"  he  said,  "  who  is  that 
young  lady  opposite  in  the  white  and  yellow  dress  ?" 

Flo  loolced  down  the  table.  "  Oh,  that  is  one  of 
my  sisters-in-law,  one  of  my  husband's  sisters,"  she 
replied. 

"  Oh,  yes  .  .  .  and  her  name  is  ...  ?" 

"  She  is  called  Racliel,"  Flo  answered. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  105 

"  Rachel !"  He  repeated  the  name  lingeringly, 
and  a  new  idea  came  into  Flo's  mind.  She  looked 
at  him  sharply,  indeed,  but  he  was  again  looking  at 
Rachel,  so  that  she  could  gather  nothing  from  his 
face. 

But  later  on  in  the  drawing-room,  she  carefully 
abstained  from  introducing  him  to  Rachel.  "  If  he 
wants  to  know  her,"  her  thoughts  ran,  "  he  shall  ask 
for  it."  Wherein  she  showed  that  she  was  clearly 
of  opinion  that  a  certain  wise  man  was  really  wise 
when  he  said,  "  In  vain  is  the  snare  spread  in  the 
sight  of  any  bird."  Nor  did  she  have  to  wait  long. 
Before  the  men  had  been  ten  minutes  in  the  room, 
Mr.  Barty  came  to  her  and  said,  "  Mrs.  Gorman, 
won't  you  introduce  me  to  your  sister-in-law  ?" 

"  Oh,  of  course  I  will ;  but  to  which  one,  for  I 
have  four  sisters-in-law  here  to-night,"  she  returned, 
with  deliberate  denseness  of  understanding. 

"  It  is  Miss  Rachel  that  I  would  like  to  know,"  he 
said,  quite  meekly.  So  Flo  convoyed  him  across 
the  room  and  uttered  the  few  words  which  were 
necessary  to  include  him  among  Rachel  Gorman's 
acquaintances  for  the  future.  Among  her  acquaint- 
ances, did  I  say?  I  might  have  used  a  stronger 
word,  for  from  that  moment  it  was  evident  to  all 
beholders  that  for  Brooke  Barty  there  was  only  one 
woman  in  the  world,  and  that  woman  was  Rachel 
Gorman. 


io6  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Matt  to  his  wife,  when  all 
their  guests  had  gone  and  they  found  themselves 
once  more  alone,  "  did  you  ever  see  any  one  so 
struck  all  of  a  heap  as  Barty  was  by  Rachel  to- 
night ?  Or  was  I  mistaken  ?" 

"  Not  the  very  least  in  the  world,  dear  boy,"  Flo 
cried.  "  I've  just  been  bursting  to  know  whether 
you  saw  it  or  not.  They  say  that  brothers  never  do 
see  anything  of  the  kind,  but  it  would  indeed  have 
been  a  blind  bat  of  a  brother  who  saw  nothing  to- 
night." 

"  Oh,  I  saw  right  enough,"  said  Matt,  with  a  laugh. 
"  And  I  saw,  too,  that  Miss  Rachel  herself  was  any- 
thing but  averse  to  the  attention  Brooke  Barty  paid 
her." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Flo,  half  hesitatingly,  "  I  won- 
der, Matt,  if  ...  if  anything  ...  I  mean  if  any- 
thing serious  should  come  of  it,  what  your  father 
would  say  ?" 

"  My  father  .  .  .  why,  what  should  he  say  ?  It  is 
nothing  to  him  whether  the  girls  marry  one  fellow 
or  another,  so  long  as  the  ones  they  choose  are  all 
right." 

For  the  first  time  Flo  realized  that  Matt  knew 
nothing  of  the  several  minor  tragedies  which  had 
been  enacted  during  the  past  few  years  under  the 
roof  of  the  Abode  of  Peace.  "  Matt,"  she  said, 
breathlessly,  "have  you  never  heard,  or  seen,  or 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  107 

realized  that  .  .  .  your  father  has  views  of  his  own 
on  the  subject  of  marriage  ?" 

"  Of  course,  but  only  such  as  are  reasonable  and 
just.  He  never  said  one  word  to  interfere  in  any 
way  with  my  marriage." 

"  But  with  the  girls  .  .  .  they  have  not  such  a  free 
hand  as  you  have  always  had.  Your  father  wants 
Rachel  to  marry  John  Strode,  and  he  thinks  it  pre- 
posterous that  a  girl  should  want  to  have  a  voice 
in  the  question  of  her  husband." 

"  Oh,  what  rubbish  .  .  .  who  has  been  stuffing 
you  up  with  all  that  ?"  he  exclaimed,  contemptuously. 
"  My  dear  little  girl,  if  that  chap  who  was  here  to- 
night wants  to  marry  Rachel,  you  may  depend  upon 
it  that  my  father  won't  raise  any  serious  objection. 
He's  young  and  certainly  well  off,  and  by  all  accounts 
a  very  good  fellow,  and  the  whole  matter  lies  with 
the  two  themselves.  We  needn't  bother  our  heads 
about  it  one  way  or  the  other." 

Flo  said  no  more.  She  was  a  girl  who  in  her 
years  of  business  life  had  learned  to  hold  her  peace, 
where  a  more  ordinary  girl  would  have  argued  the 
question  out  to  the  bitter  end.  She  saw  that  Matt 
really  did  not  know  certain  things  which  had  hap- 
pened in  the  days  that  were  gone  by,  and  there  was 
a  lurking  suspicion  in  her  brain  that  perhaps,  after 
all,  Matty  had  fixed  her  heart  upon  some  man  who 
was  not  all  that  was  desirable  in  the  eyes  of  her  father 


io8  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

and  mother,  and  that  she  had  in  her  disappointment 
got  into  a  way  of  putting  down  extraordinary  parental 
prudence  to  the  influence  solely  of  her  father's  pe- 
culiar creed.  She  had  assuredly  herself  seen  no 
sign  in  her  father-in-law's  manner  or  conversation 
that  he  did  not  wish  for  peace  to  be  part  and  parcel 
of  his  daughters's  lives  as  well  as  of  his  son's  and  of 
his  own.  In  her  sensible  mind  she  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  there  was  a  doubt,  and  she  determined 
to  give  Mr.  Gorman  the  benefit  thereof. 

After  this  Brooke  Barty  was  to  be  met  with  every- 
where in  Mullingham.  From  the  Bishop's  Palace  to 
the  Deanery,  from  the  small  mess  of  the  detachment 
of  infantry,  who  held  the  garrison  at  that  time,  to  the 
weekly  dinner  of  the  cricket  club ;  from  the  house 
of  the  wealthy  manufacturer  to  that  of  the  careless 
family  who  lived  about  a  mile  out  of  the  town  on 
the  remnants  of  an  almost  forgotten  prosperity,  and 
danced  their  way  through  life  on  what  they  jokingly 
called  the  edge  of  a  razor.  Brooke  Barty  was  wel- 
come to  each  and  all  as  only  a  really  good  fellow  or 
a  scamp  ever  can  be.  And  there  was  very  emphati- 
cally nothing  of  the  scamp  about  Brooke  Barty. 

To  the  Abode  of  Peace  he  went  first  of  all  and 
most  of  all.  With  its  mistress  he  quickly  ingratiated 
himself,  and  he  fell  into  the  ways  of  its  master  with 
an  alacrity  which  was  as  judicious  as  it  was  appar- 
ently spontaneous. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  109 

On  the  occasion  of  his  first  visit  he  was,  it  must 
be  owned,  not  a  little  startled  by  Mr.  Gorman's  form 
of  greeting  when  they  first  met  ..."  Peace  be  with 
you,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  with  uplifted  hand  and  sol- 
emn mien. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  very  much,"  said  Brooke  Barty, 
promptly.  "  Fine  day,  hasn't  it  been  ?" 

Mr.  Gorman  came  down  from  the  clouds  with  a 
start.  "  Yes,  a  very  fine  day  for  the  time  of  year," 
he  replied.  "  I  hope  that  you  like  Mullingham  and 
are  satisfied  with  your  new  life." 

"  Yes,  it  seems  as  good  as  any  other,"  Brooke  said, 
quietly.  "  I  won't  pretend  that  I  am  desperately  in- 
terested in  steel  works  except  as  an  investment  and 
as  a  means  of  passing  my  life." 

"  Ah,  there  you  are  making  a  mistake,"  said  Mr. 
Gorman,  becoming  the  man  of  the  world  all  in  a 
moment.  "  A  young  man  ought  to  be  deeply  inter- 
ested in  his  business  no  matter  what  it  is.  If  he  is 
not  so  he  has  not  found  his  right  vocation." 

"That  may  be  so  in  ordinary  cases,"  returned 
Brooke,  who  had  no  notion  of  changing  his  mental 
attitude  because  of  what  any  one  else  had  to  say  on 
the  subject,  "  but  in  mine  I  don't  think  it  is  so.  I 
am  an  all-round  mediocre  man  with  no  particular 
gifts  one  way  or  another.  I  am  a  very  good  business 
man,  but  I  could  never  strike  out  a  line  and  found  a 
big  business  for  myself.  I  hate  an  idle  life  or  to  do 


no  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

what  so  many  other  men  who  are  not  obliged  to 
work  for  their  bread  and  butter  do, — make  a  business 
of  sport.  So  I  have  settled  myself  in  a  line  that  will 
keep  myself  employed  and  make  me  a  bigger  income 
than  I  have,  and  I  am  very  well  satisfied,  though  not 
in  the  least  enthusiastic." 

"  But  you  have  not  come  straight  here  as  a  part- 
ner ...  I  mean  without  any  experience  ?"  Mr.  Gor- 
man asked. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no ;  I  went  through  a  regular  course 
at  Driffield's,"  naming  a  great  firm  of  steel-plate- 
makers  well  known  all  over  the  world.  "  I  had  to 
make  up  my  mind  when  I  left  Haileybury  what  I 
would  do  with  my  life,  and  that  sort  of  thing  seemed 
to  me  as  good  as  anything  else.  I  did  not  know 
then,"  he  added,  frankly,  "  that  I  should  ever  be  in 
a  position  to  buy  a  share  in  anything." 

"  I  hope  you  will  do  well,"  said  Mr.  Gorman.  "  I 
confess  though  that  I  should  like  you  to  have  a  little 
more  enthusiasm.  But,"  shaking  his  head  a  little 
sadly,  "it  is  a  quality  that  is  strangely  lacking 
among  young  men  nowadays,  and  often  when  it  is 
found  it  is  not  appreciated  at  its  true  value." 

"Which,"  whispered  Matty  to  Rachel,  "is  one 
specially  meant  for  you,  my  dear." 

It  was  natural  enough  that  Mrs.  Gorman  should 
include  among  the  guests  invited  to  her  next  dinner- 
party the  young  man  who  had  come  to  Mullingham 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  in 

with  a  letter  of  introduction  to  her  only  son.  "  Of 
course,  if  you  wish  to  ask  him,  I  have,  can  have  no 
possible  objection,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  when  she 
mentioned  the  subject  to  him. 

"  I  always  like  you  to  know  who  is  coming, 
Edward,"  said  she. 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  dear,  but  it  is  for  you  to  decide," 
he  said,  hastily ;  "  you  are  the  mistress  of  my  house, 
and  it  is  your  right  to  settle  all  such  questions." 

"  It  is  no  pleasure  for  a  woman  to  settle  such 
things  by  right,"  she  said,  in  a  pained  voice. 

The  tall  old  man  drew  nearer  to  his  wife,  who  was 
flushed  and  troubled-looking.  "  My  dear,"  he  said, 
"  when  I  say  your  right,  I  mean  only  to  convey  that 
to  me  your  will  is  law.  If  you  were  to  wish  me  to 
receive  a  sweep  or  a  man  out  of  the  gutter,  I  would 
do  it  with  pleasure  to  give  you  a  moment's  happi- 
ness, much  less  a  young  man  of  whom  we  know 
nothing  but  good,  and  whose  manners  are  certainly 
like  his  looks,  quite  charming." 

She  hesitated  before  she  spoke  again.  "  Edward," 
she  said,  "  we  have  daughters.  ...  It  is  well  to  be 
prepared  for  any  contingency  which  may  arise." 

"  Such  a  contingency  could  not  be  disagreeable," 
he  replied,  smiling.  "  If  such  a  thing  were  to  hap- 
pen that  he  came  to  ask  me  for  one  of  my  daughters, 
I  should  raise  no  objection.  .  .  .  Why  should  I  ?" 

"  That  is  all.     I  wanted  you  to  bear  it  in  mind," 


ii2  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

she  said,  quietly.  Then  she  went  away,  closing  the 
door  gently  behind  her ;  but  it  was  the  action  of  a 
woman  to  whom  pain  either  of  mind  or  body  is  a 
thing  of  daily  endurance. 

The  old  man  stood  just  where  she  had  left  him 
for  quite  a  long  time.  Then  he  sat  down  in  his  chair 
again  and  stayed  there  thinking  deeply.  "  Never  was 
man  better  loved  than  she  loves  me,"  his  thoughts 
ran.  ..."  And  yet  .  .  .  and  yet  ...  I  don't  seem 
ever  able  to  .  .  ."  he  rose  abruptly  and  went  over  to 
the  great  carved  desk  at  which  he  usually  sat  to 
write  his  letters,  seating  himself  heavily  in  the  big 
library  chair  which  stood  before  it.  There  he  sat  for 
a  minute  or  so,  then,  slowly  and  almost  unwillingly, 
he  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  drew  out  a  small 
bunch  of  keys.  Of  these  he  selected  one  and  put  it 
into  the  key-hole  of  the  centre  compartment  of  the 
upper  part  of  the  desk,  opened  a  little  door,  which 
in  turn  disclosed  a  small  cupboard,  at  the  back  of 
which  were  three  small  drawers.  Selecting  another 
key  with  just  the  same  unwilling  air,  he  opened  the 
lower  of  these  small  drawers  and  took  therefrom  a 
bundle  of  letters  and  a  small  leather  case.  The 
letters  were  tied  with  a  faded  blue  ribbon  and  were 
but  few  in  number.  The  edges  were  torn  and 
crumpled,  the  ink  was  brown  with  age.  He  did  not 
untie  the  ribbon,  but  sat  for  a  few  minutes  looking 
at  the  packet  earnestly.  Then  he  slowly  put  it  back 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  113 

in  its  hiding-place  and  took  up  the  leather  case. 
This  he  opened,  disclosing  a  miniature,  painted  on 
ivory,  of  a  very  young  girl.  She  was  brilliantly 
beautiful,  a  little  head  running  over  with  close  clus- 
tering dark  curls,  dark  dancing  eyes  and  a  sweet 
rebellious  mouth  half  parted  in  a  smile.  He  gazed 
at  the  picture  long  and  earnestly,  a  wholly  different 
Edward  Gorman  to  him  whom  the  world  of  Mul- 
lingham  knew,  and  if  the  truth  be  owned,  feared  as 
much  as  it  respected.  "  My  lost  love  .  .  .  my  lost 
love,"  he  murmured  at  last.  "  Shall  we  never  meet 
again,  I  wonder?  Or  shall  we  drift  to  and  fro 
through  the  endless  mazes  of  eternity,  not  knowing 
when  we  are  near  one  to  the  other?  No,  no,  it 
could  never  be,  never !  And  if  we  meet  what  will 
become  of  Margaret,  that  patient  one  who  has 
lavished  all  her  life's  joy  upon  a  heart  that  died 
years  and  years  ago  ?  My  God  .  .  .  my  God  .  .  . 
what  a  question  to  answer,  what  a  doubt  to  come  to 
one !  Almost  better  the  extinction  of  a  featureless 
heaven,  a  sexless  communion  with  souls  to  whom 
one  will  be  wholly  indifferent." 

Then  he  gazed  at  the  picture  again  with  longing 
eyes  and  a  tender  smile  parting  his  lips.  "Little 
girl  .  .  .  little  girl,"  he  said,  gently,  "  they  sold  you 
to  a  fellow  who  was  unworthy  of  you,  who  broke 
your  heart  and  made  you  old  while  you  were  yet  a 
child.  ...  Oh,  my  God  1" 


ii4  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

He  thrust  the  miniature  back  into  its  hiding-place 
again  with  what  was  almost  roughness,  locked  the 
little  drawer,  and  then  the  door  of  the  cupboard. 
And  after  that  he  sat  for  a  long,  long  time  just  there 
at  the  table,  resting  his  head  upon  his  hands.  And 
yet,  with  the  strange  inconsistency  of  his  nature,  he 
never  for  one  moment  swerved  in  his  idea  that  his 
young  daughter,  Rachel,  should  in  the  end  marry 
John  Strode,  the  man  whom  she  openly  detested. 
He  insisted  ...  or,  stay ;  that  is  scarcely  the  right 
word  to  use,  for  in  the  Abode  of  Peace  Mr.  Gor- 
man's lightest  word  was  law,  and  was  invariably 
carried  out  as  were  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Per- 
sians in  olden  times  ...  he  expressed  a  wish  that 
John  Strode  should  be  included  among  the  guests, 
and  Mrs.  Gorman  sent  him  an  invitation,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  without  so  much  as  a  suggestion  that 
he  might  be  left  out  for  once.  It  was  not,  indeed, 
until  she  was  speaking  of  the  dinner  to  her  eldest 
daughter  that  the  girls  knew  that  there  had  been 
any  such  invitation  given  or  accepted.  "  Oh, 
what  a  pity !"  cried  Matty.  "  Why  did  you  ask 
him?  The  party  will  be  quite  spoiled  for  poor 
Rachel." 

"  Your  father  wished  it,"  replied  her  mother,  in  a 
tone  which  implied  that  there  was  nothing  more  to 
say  upon  the  subject. 

Matty  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  pursed  up  her 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  115 

mouth,  but  she  did  not  speak.  Too  well  she  knew 
the  hopelessness  of  appeal  to  her  mother  when  any 
wish  of  her  father's  was  in  question.  And  when  the 
evening  of  the  dinner-party  came,  almost  the  first  to 
arrive  upon  the  scene  was  the  redoubtable  John 
Strode,  who  was  refulgent  with  good  grooming  and 
seemed  to  shine  like  the  very  sun.  You  know  what 
I  mean,  my  reader, — that  over-grooming  which,  like 
over-good  manners,  is  positively  offensive.  Have 
you  not  known  the  man  who  seems  to  spend  his  life 
in  jumping  around  offering  chairs  to  people  who 
don't  want  them  ?  The  man  who,  with  the  best  in- 
tentions in  the  world,  seems  never  able  to  sit  for  five 
minutes  in  conversation  with  even  the  most  brilliant 
and  cultivated  persons  without  always  keeping  a 
weather  eye  open  in  case  some  lady  may  chance  to 
come  in  to  whom  he  may  have  the  felicity  of  handing 
a  chair,  nine  times  out  of  ten  when  she  would  in- 
finitely rather  choose  one  for  herself,  more  especially 
when  he  happens  to  carry  her  his  own.  John  Strode's 
natural  manners  were  not  of  this  order,  for  he  never 
troubled  about  chairs  or  any  other  small  courtesies 
to  ladies  unless  he  had  a  distinct  object  to  gain  by  so 
doing.  Then  it  is  true  that  his  attentions  became 
actually  pestilential,  as  laboured  as  the  aspirates  of 
those  who  have  acquired  them  late  in  life,  and  who 
speak  as  if  they  could  never  manage  them  unless 
they  were  careful  to  give  each  its  full  and  separate 


n6  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

value, — a  sort  of  running,  settled,  and  paid  account 
with  the  letter  H. 

John  Strode  came  armed  with  the  sinews  of  war. 
That  is  to  say,  he  sent  up  by  William,  from  whom  he 
learned  that  Miss  Rachel  was  not  yet  downstairs,  a 
lovely  knot  of  orchids  such  as  would  have  made 
most  young  ladies  half  wild  with  delight.  Rachel 
received  them  with  a  glance  of  contempt  and  care- 
lessly threw  them  down  on  the  nearest  table.  "  How 
dare  he  send  me  his  things  ?"  she  exclaimed,  indig- 
nantly. "  It  is  positively  indecent  .  .  .  like  paying 
before  he  has  made  his  bargain." 

Consequently  she  went  down  at  the  last  minute, 
wearing  a  simple  white  gown  and  not  carrying  a 
flower  of  any  kind.  "  Did  you  not  get  my  flowers  ?" 
John  Strode  demanded,  indignantly. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  replied,  with  studied  indifference. 
..."  I  did  not  care  for  them.  I  hate  flowers  ...  I 
seldom  wear  them." 

"  Would  you  rather  that  I  sent  you  diamonds  ?" 
he  asked,  with  a  very  eager  look.  "  Because,  if  you 
would  .  .  ." 

"  I  should  like  nothing  that  you  could  send  me, 
Mr.  Strode,"  said  Rachel,  with  fearful  distinctness. 
"  Pray  don't  trouble  to  send  me  anything.  I  should 
never  wear  it,  no  matter  what  it  was." 

He  glared  at  her  for  a  moment  as  if  he  was  try- 
ing to  gauge  the  depths  of  her  dislike  and  distrust. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  117 

"  Miss  Rachel,"  he  said,  choking  down  his  wrath,  "  I 
am  to  take  you  in  to  dinner." 

"  Really !"  she  said,  with  a  sneer.  "  And  did  you 
ask  my  father  to  arrange  it  ?  I  think  you  must  have 
done  so.  Otherwise  you  would  have  been  given 
somebody  of  much  greater  importance  than  I." 

"  You  are  too  cruel,"  he  burst  out. 

"  Nay,  not  half  so  cruel  as  you  are,  for  you  never 
give  me  a  moment's  peace.  I  wonder  that  you  are 
not  ashamed  to  harry  me  as  you  do.  If  I  were  a 
man,  I  would  not  give  a  second  thought  to  a  girl  who 
loathed  me  openly  as  I  loathe  you.  I  would  say 
with  the  old  poet,  '  If  she  be  not  fair  for  me,  what 
care  I  how  fair  she  be.'  " 

"  But  I  intend  you  to  be  fair  for  me  one  of  these 
days,"  he  declared. 

An  expression  of  the  most  profound  disgust 
flashed  across  the  girl's  proud  young  face.  "  I  sup- 
pose that  it  is  foolish  to  credit  you  with  even  the 
most  ordinary  fineness  of  feeling,"  she  said,  with  a 
scornful  air.  And  then  she  turned  away  as  if  it  was 
not  worth  while  to  consider  the  question  any  further. 

Meantime  Mr.  Gorman  was  just  bidding  Matt's 
new  friend  welcome  in  his  own  characteristic  fashion. 
The  young  man  lingered  awhile,  but  at  the  first 
opportunity  made  his  way  to  Rachel's  side.  "  You 
look  very  much  put  out,"  he  said  to  her  with  a  laugh. 
"  Is  anything  the  matter  ?" 


r  18  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  Well,  in  a  way,  yes ;  but  it  is  nothing  I  can  tell 
you  about,"  she  replied.  A  smile  broke  over  her 
face,  and  John  Strode,  who  was  watching  her,  seemed 
suddenly  to  grow  wiser  as  to  the  cause  of  his  lady- 
love's obduracy.  His  face  darkened,  and  when  Mrs. 
Gorman,  passing  near  them,  took  the  opportunity  of 
introducing  the  two  men,  he  could  barely  bring  him- 
self to  greet  his  rival  civilly. 

"  What's  that  fellow  to  you  ?"  he  demanded  of 
Rachel,  as  they  went  across  the  hall  into  the  dining- 
room. 

"What  fellow?"  she  asked,  in  a  chilly  tone  of 
non-understanding. 

"  That  new  fellow,  Barty." 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  she  returned,  promptly,  "  unless 
it  is  something  when  one  does  not  loathe  a  man  with 
all  one's  heart  and  soul." 

"  As  you  do  me  ...  eh  ?" 

"  Yes,"  with  a  defiant  glance  at  him, "  as  I  do  you." 

He  laughed  in  a  disagreeable  way  and  pressed  the 
slim  hand  resting  upon  his  arm.  She  deliberately 
snatched  it  away  with  an  indignant  "  Don't  do  that." 

John  Strode  laughed  again.  "  Flutter  and  struggle 
as  hard  as  you  like,"  he  said,  with  a  frightful  smile, 
a  smile  which  sent  dismay  and  fear  shooting  right 
through  her  heart,  "  it  will  be  all  one  in  the  end. 
The  bird  that  flutters  longest  is  often  the  tamest 
when  her  wings  are  still.  I  am-  patient  enough,  but 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  119 

there  is  a  time  to  end  all  things,  and  the  end  of  your 
tether  is  getting  very  near." 

"  How  dare  you  ?"  she  gasped. 

He  laughed  again.  "  You  will  understand  by  and 
by,"  he  said,  with  a  persistent  air  of  not  taking 
offence. 

And  Rachel  did  see.  For  an  hour  or  so  later, 
when  the  main  part  of  the  dinner  was  finished,  Mr. 
Gorman  asked  his  guests  to  charge  their  glasses,  as 
he  had  a  health  which  he  wished  them  to  drink. 

So  the  servants  went  round  and  filled  up  all  the 
glasses,  and  Mr.  Gorman  rose  in  his  place.  On  every 
face  expectancy  and  wonder  were  imprinted,  Mrs. 
Gorman  looking  as  mystified  as  any  one. 

"  I  wish  you  to  join  with  me  in  drinking  a  health," 
said  Mr.  Gorman,  in  his  most  mellifluous  accents, 
the  accents  which  were  most  often  in  requisition  in 
matters  connected  with  the  sanctuary.  "  It  is  not 
very  long  since  my  only  son  entered  the  bonds  of 
holy  matrimony,  and  now  I  must  ask  you  to  join 
with  me  in  drinking  to  the  future  happiness  of  one 
of  my  daughters." 

At  this  the  four  daughters  of  the  house  stared 
blankly  at  one  another,  and  Mr.  Gorman  went  on 
speaking  in  his  sweet,  gentle  tones.  "  I  beg  to  an- 
nounce to  you  that  to-day  I  have  given  my  consent 
to  an  engagement  between  my  friend,  John  Strode, 
and  my  youngest  daughter,  Rachel.  I  am  sure  that 


120  THE  PEACEMAKERS. 

you  will  join  me  in  wishing  the  young  couple  every 
happiness  and  prosperity." 

For  one  blank  moment  of  astonishment  nobody 
spoke  or  attempted  to  honour  the  toast  which  they 
had  just  been  asked  to  drink.  Then  one  or  two  of 
the  older  men  caught  up  their  glasses  and  made  a 
movement  as  if  to  hold  them  out  towards  the  couple 
sitting  together  at  the  end  of  the  table.  But  before 
a  single  glass  could  touch  a  lip,  Rachel  Gorman 
sprang  to  her  feet  and  held  up  her  hand  to  secure 
attention.  "  I  am  sorry,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  that 
trembled  with  rage,  "that  my  father  has  made  a 
mistake.  I  am  not  engaged  to  Mr.  John  Strode,  and 
I  never  shall  be.  I  have  already,  indeed,  some  time 
ago,  definitely  and  positively  refused  him.  I  shall 
never  have  any  other  opinion  on  this  matter,  and  I 
beg  that  it  may  not  be  referred  to  in  my  presence 
again."  Then,  without  another  word,  without  a  look 
at  either  her  father  or  at  John  Strode,  she  pushed 
back  her  chair  and  walked  out  of  the  room.  It  was 
Matty  who  first  made  a  hasty  movement  as  if  to 
follow  her,  but  Mr.  Gorman  perceiving  her,  said  in  a 
low  tone  of  command  which  there  was  no  gainsay- 
ing, "Sit  still.  Stay  where  you  are.  Rachel  and 
I  will  settle  this  matter  afterwards." 

For  a  few  minutes  the  silence  was  profound  and 
painful,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  several  persons  to 
say  anything  which  would  cover  the  awkwardness 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  121 

of  the  outbreak.  Then  Mrs.  Gorman  summoned  up 
courage  to  signal  to  the  most  important  lady  present, 
and  immediately  all  the  ladies  rose,  glad  enough  to 
get  away.  As  for  Mrs.  Gorman,  she  walked  blindly 
across  the  hall  to  the  drawing-room,  and  then  she  sat 
down  upon  the  nearest  chair  and  fainted  dead  away. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

NO   ALTERNATIVE. 

They  say  that  no  mistress  is  so  hard  as  one  who  has  herself  been 
a  servant ;  and  certain  it  is  that  no  one  is  so  unsympathetic  in  affairs 
of  the  heart  as  the  hero  or  heroine  of  a  very  romantic  love  story. 

PERHAPS  never,  since  the  Abode  of  Peace  had  first 
been  built,  had  so  stormy  a  scene  been  enacted  under 
its  roof  as  that  which  followed  Mr.  Gorman's  un- 
lucky announcement  concerning  his  daughter  Rachel 
and  John  Strode. 

"  How  dared  you  defy  me  in  my  own  house  and 
at  my  own  table  like  that?"  he  exclaimed,  indig- 
nantly. 

Rachel  stood  before  him  like  an  outraged  young 
goddess.  "  How  dared  you  make  such  an  arrange- 
ment forme?"  she  demanded  in  her  turn.  "You, 
my  father,  to  whom  I  ought  by  right  to  look  for 
protection  and  for  affection.  I  have  already  told 
you  that  I  will  not  marry  John  Strode.  I  will  never, 
never  marry  John  Strode.  You  may  persecute  me, 
you  may  turn  me  out  of  your  house,  and  I  daresay 
you  will  .  .  .  but  force  me  into  John  Strode's  arms 
you  never,  never  shall,  not  if  I  have  to  take  my  life 
to  prevent  it." 
122 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  123 

"As  your  father  .  .  ."  he  began,  but  Rachel  in- 
terrupted him. 

"  As  my  father  you  have  a  right  to  my  obedience 
on  all  minor  points.  To  say  what  I  shall  spend,  to 
demand  that  I  shall  behave  in  a  certain  way,  that  I 
shall  conform  to  the  rules  of  your  house,  and  that  I 
shall  do  nothing  which  can  in  any  way  reflect  on 
your  position  either  as  a  man  or  to  bring  your  re- 
ligion into  disrepute.  I  have  done  these  things.  I, 
like  my  mother  and  my  sisters,  have  lived  this  life  of 
sham  in  order  that  I  might  please  you.  You  cannot 
say  that  I  have  done  or  said  one  single  thing  which 
could  make  you  ashamed  of  me.  But  when  you 
ask,  nay,  when  you  try  to  force  me  to  marry  a  man 
whom  I  know  to  be  a  cad,  a  man  whom  I  dislike 
and  despise  to  the  inmost  core  of  my  heart,  you  are 
asking  the  unreasonable  thing,  and  I  refuse  once  for 
all  to  obey  you.  I  am  your  daughter  ...  I  am  not 
your  slave  to  sell  in  the  open  market  to  what  bidder 
you  will." 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  hear  you  use  such  a  simile," 
Mr.  Gorman  cried,  trying  hard  to  recover  his  old 
tone  of  calm  and  quiet  command. 

"  And  I,"  cried  the  girl,  with  a  great  passionate 
scorn  such  as  seemed  to  lift  her  to  a  height  far 
above  that  of  every  other  person  in  the  room,  "  I  am 
ashamed  to  think  that  you,  my  father,  should  make 
me  feel  that  such  a  simile  could  apply  to  me.  How- 


124  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

ever,  I  don't  want  to  say  any  more  about  it,  only  let 
us  clearly  understand  one  another,  that  under  no 
circumstances  could  I  or  would  I  ever  consent  to 
marry  John  Strode." 

Something  in  the  girl's  words  served  to  rouse  the 
old  man  to  an  almost  ungovernable  passion.  "  And 
I  say,"  he  thundered,  "  that  you  shall  marry  John 
Strode.  While  my  daughters  live  under  my  roof  in 
luxury  and  .  .  .  and  .  .  ." 

"  And  peace  ?"  suggested  Rachel,  with  fine  scorn. 

"  Yes,  and  peace,  they  shall  do  my  bidding,"  he 
cried,  vehemently.  "  You  have  torn  my  most  cher- 
ished scheme  to  shreds  this  day,  and  you  shall  yet 
submit  to  my  will,  or" — threateningly — "you  shall 
turn  out  to  die  in  the  gutter." 

At  this  threat  Mrs.  Gorman  uttered  a  piercing  cry, 
and  Matt  came  forward  and  caught  hold  of  his  sis- 
ter's hand.  "  Nay,  sir,"  he  said,  in  accents  as  sooth- 
ing as  he  could  make  them,  "you  go  too  far.  If 
you  turn  Rachel  out,  she  comes  to  me." 

"  What !  are  you,  too,  against  me  ?"  Mr.  Gorman 
cried,  furiously. 

"Not  against  you,  sir;  or  if  I  am,  only  in  so  far 
as  you  will  wish  me  to  go  when  you  are  calmer  and 
more  like  yourself.  You  would  have  my  mother  to 
think  seriously  that  you  would  turn  a  young  girl 
out  into  the  world  .  .  .  her  child  ?  The  very  idea 
is  preposterous.  At  all  events,  I  am  a  man  of  my 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  125 

word  as  much  as  you  are,  and  I  say  that  if  Rachel 
is  turned  out  of  her  own  home  she  comes  to  me,  no 
matter  what  the  consequences  may  happen  to  be." 

At  this  Rachel  turned  and  literally  flung  herself 
into  her  brother's  arms.  A  word  of  kindness  had 
melted  her  as  all  the  threats  in  the  world  would 
never  have  had  power  to  do,  and  she  broke  into 
such  bitter  sobs  as  would  have  softened  the  heart 
of  a  stone.  "  Oh,  Matt !  .  .  .  oh,  Matt !"  she  moaned. 

"  There  .  .  .  there  .  .  .  it's  all  right  ....  I'll  stand 
by  you,"  he  whispered. 

She  clung  convulsively  to  him  and  only  the  sound 
of  her  sobs  broke  the  death-like  silence  which  fol- 
lowed. Mr.  Gorman  stood  before  the  fire,  his  eyes 
blazing,  his  face  dark,  his  whole  person  that  of  one 
possessed  by  a  great  and  overwhelming  passion. 
His  wife,  still  weak  and  trembling  from  the  effects 
of  the  fainting  fit  into  which  she  had  fallen  in  the 
drawing-room,  was  lying  back  in  a  chair  not  far 
from  him,  evidently  trying  hard  not  to  give  way  to  a 
complete  collapse.  The  three  elder  girls  had  drawn 
together  and  were  eyeing  their  father  with  apprehen- 
sion. Flo  stood  with  her  hand  on  the  back  of  her 
mother-in-law's  chair,  the  very  picture  of  astounded 
dismay. 

At  last  the  old  man  spoke  again.  "Well,  have 
you  made  your  choice  ?"  he  asked,  harshly.  Rachel's 
sobs  were  her  only  reply.  "  Because  I  will  have 


126  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

your  answer  at  once.  You  do  my  bidding  or  you 
leave  my  house." 

"  No,  Edward,  no !"  cried  his  wife,  pitifully.  "  Don't 
say  it ;  oh,  don't  say  it !  She  is  your  child,  your  own 
child  .  .  .  my  child.  Is  that  nothing  to  you  ?" 

"  I  have  a  right  to  my  daughter's  obedience,"  he 
replied. 

Mrs.  Gorman  struggled  to  her  feet  and  went  to- 
wards her  husband.  The  poor  woman  was  shaking 
in  every  limb  and  her  face  was  as  white  as  chalk. 
"  Edward,  I  entreat  you  .  .  ."  she  began,  when  he 
interrupted  her  harshly. 

"  I  must  beg,  Margaret,  that  you  will  not  give  me 
the  pain  of  refusing  you  anything,"  he  said,  speaking 
very  coldly. 

She  shrank  back  as  if  he  had  struck  her  a  blow 
...  I  mean  a  physical  blow,  for  surely  no  man  can 
more  surely  strike  a  woman  in  spirit  than  by  wound- 
ing her  through  her  children.  She  sank  down  in 
her  chair  again,  her  teeth  chattering  with  fear  and 
sorrow,  and  Mr.  Gorman  turned  and  looked  at 
Rachel,  still  encircled  by  her  brother's  arms.  "  Then 
I  am  to  understand  that  you  both  defy  me  ?"  he  said. 

"  If  you  like  to  put  it  in  that  way,  sir,"  replied 
Matt,  speaking  in  deferential  tones.  "  I  shall  cer- 
tainly not  stand  quietly  by  and  see  one  of  my  sisters, 
my  dear  mother's  child,  forced  to  marry  a  man  whom 
she  detests  and  despises.  It  is  incredible  to  me  that 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  127 

you,  a  man  whom  I  have  regarded  hitherto  as  the 
very  soul  of  honour,  can  seriously  demand  such  a 
preposterous  and  unnecessary  sacrifice.  The  man  is 
a  cad  and  a  brute,  and  even  if  she  were  in  love  with 
him  I  should  be  sorry  to  see  Rachel  or  any  other 
girl  for  whom  I  had  either  respect  or  affection  mar- 
ried to  such  a  fellow.  He  is  common,  vulgar,  grasp- 
ing, and  sordid.  As  your  friend,  although  we  have 
never  been  able  to  understand  your  liking  for  him, 
we  have  put  up  with  his  presence  and  have  treated 
him  with  civility.  And  I  must  confess  that,  on  my 
part,  it  has  always  been  with  an  effort.  I  have  al- 
lowed up  to  now  the  fiction  to  obtain  that  he  comes 
here  for  purposes  of  business.  .  .  .  Now,  however, 
that  fiction  need  not  be  kept  up  any  longer.  Mr. 
John  Strode  comes  here  as  your  friend  and  for  no 
other  reason,  but  where  your  liking  for  him  comes  in 
or  why  it  exists  is  one  of  those  mysteries  which  I 
suppose  we  shall  never  understand.  This  is  all  be- 
side the  question,  however,  and  the  one  which  we 
have  to  settle  now  is  a  more  serious  one.  Do  I  un- 
derstand that  you  really  mean  to  turn  Rachel  out  of 
your  house  unless  she  consents  to  marry  this  man  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Good.  Now  we  know  where  we  are.  You  will 
not  expect  me  to  visit  you  in  the  future  ?" 

"  As  you  please  ...  I  have  no  quarrel  with  you." 

"  I  shall  come  to  see  my  mother  when  I  know  that 


128  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

you  are  not  at  home  .  .  .  that  is  my  duty  equally 
with  my  right.  You  clearly  understand,  sir,  that  I 
shall  not  feel  myself  in  any  way  bound  to  hold  my 
tongue  on  this  most  distressing  subject." 

"  You  can  please  yourself  about  that." 

"  It  will  seem  rather  strange  to  those  who  do  not 
understand  our  peculiar  form  of  religion,  that  you 
should  have  turned  your  young  daughter  into  the 
street  for  such  a  cause, — you,  a  Peacemaker." 

"  That  is  my  affair." 

"  Pardon  me,  it  is  my  affair  also.  I  would  that  it 
were  not  so.  By  the  bye,  the  first  time  I  get  hold 
of  John  Strode  I  intend  to  half  thrash  the  life  out  of 
him." 

The  old  man  made  a  step  towards  his  son.  "  I 
forbid  it  ...  I  insist  upon  it  that  there  is  no  open 
strife  between  you,"  he  cried. 

Matt,  however,  shook  his  head.  "  I  am  sorry  that 
I  cannot  oblige  you,  sir,"  he  said,  decidedly.  Then, 
putting  Rachel  gently  away  from  him,  he  went  quite 
near  to  his  father.  "  You  have  put  a  new  idea  into 
my  head,"  he  said,  regarding  him  fixedly.  "  What 
is  John  Strode  to  you,  that  you  should  put  him 
ostentatiously  before  your  own  children,  that  you 
should  for  his  sake  be  willing  to  break  your  wife's 
heart  ?" 

For  a  moment  Mr.  Gorman  did  not  speak.  He 
seemed  like  a  person  fascinated  against  his  will.  Yet 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  129 

nevertheless  he  did  not  answer  straight  to  his  son's 
question.  "  I  have  given  my  word.  ...  I  have 
sworn  .  .  ." 

"  To  whom  ?"  Matt  demanded,  sharply. 

It  was  then  that  the  old  man  shook  off  the  shack- 
les of  his  son's  stronger  will  and  burst  into  a  perfect 
paroxysm  of  rage.  "  How  dare  you  catechise  me  in 
this  way !"  he  thundered.  "  I  decline  to  be  arraigned 
by  you  or  any  of  my  children  and  dependants.  I 
will  have  no  more  of  this  discussion.  When  my 
daughter  thinks  fit  to  submit  to  my  will  and  to  ask 
pardon  for  her  undutiful  behaviour  she  can  write  to 
me  and  perhaps  I  will  forgive  her.  Until  that  time 
I  do  not  wish  to  be  reminded  that  such  a  person  as 
Rachel  Gorman  has  any  existence.  Not  another 
word,  I  beg.  Florence,  my  dear,  I  will  bid  you 
good-night.  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  not  been 
spared  such  a  scene  as  this."  He  bent  down  to  kiss 
her,  and  she,  not  in  the  least  realizing  what  a  will  of 
welded  steel  she  had  to  deal  with,  put  her  two  slim 
hands  upon  his  shoulders  and  held  up  a  persuasive 
face  to  his.  "  Dear  Mr.  Gorman,"  she  said,  "  don't 
be  so  hard  on  her.  You  are  making  the  poor  mother 
so  unhappy  .  .  ." 

He  deliberately  drew  her  two  hands  down  from  his 
shoulders,  and,  bending,  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks. 
"  You  are  going  beyond  your  province,  my  dear,"  he 
said,  quietly.  "  Good-night.  .  .  .  Peace  with  you." 

9 


1 3o  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

No  one  but  himself  knew  with  what  a  mighty 
effort  he  controlled  himself  to  utter  the  shibboleth 
of  his  self-made  creed.  The  words  served  to  rouse 
all  the  fire  burning  in  Rachel's  hot  heart  to  flaming 
point  again.  "  There  is  no  peace  in  this  house,"  she 
burst  out,  indignantly.  "  It  is  all  letter  and  no  spirit. 
There  is  only  one  real  Peacemaker  here,"  pointing 
to  her  mother,  "  and  look  at  her !"  Then  she  turned 
and  walked  straight  out  of  the  room. 

Mr.  Gorman  did  not  wait  for  any  further  discus- 
sion. As  soon  as  the  door  had  closed  behind  the 
rebel  he  followed  her  and  left  the  room.  As  soon 
as  the  rest  of  the  family  realized  that  he  was  gone 
they  moved  from  their  several  places  towards  their 
mother,  who,  the  strain  of  her  husband's  pres- 
ence removed,  broke  down  into  smothered  weep- 
ing. 

"  Pray,  don't  fret  over  it,  dear  mother,"  said  Matt, 
with  infinite  tenderness.  "  We  will  take  every  care 
of  the  child,  and  it  is  better  that  she  should  be  with 
us  than  in  an  atmosphere  of  continual  chafe  and 
strife  here." 

"  The  Abode  of  Peace,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Gorman,  "  the 
Abode  of  Peace." 

"  Well,  it  is  rather  a  mockery,"  said  Matt,  drily. 
"  But  no  more  so  than  most  of  us  have  realized  for 
years  past.  Peace  at.  any  price  is  what  we  may  call 
the  motto  of  the  house  and  of  the  Gorman  family ; 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  131 

but  it  is  only  to  be  had  at  one  price.  .  .  .  Surely  you 
must  have  known  it  all  along." 

The  mother  drew  herself  together  with  a  shudder- 
ing sigh.  "  I  ...  I  cannot  speak  against  your  father, 
even  in  the  face  of  this  calamity,"  she  said,  drying 
her  eyes  resolutely.  "  Perhaps  he  is  right  .  .  .  per- 
haps we  are  all  wrong,  and  it  is  Rachel's  duty  to  do 
what  he  wishes.  You  are  going  to  take  care  of  her 
for  me,  dear  boy.  I  will  try  to  content  myself  that 
it  will  all  work  together  for  good  .  .  .  but  I  think  my 
heart  has  been  broken  this  night.  I  think  my  heart 
is  broken." 

"  Go  to  bed,  darling,"  said  Matt,  in  his  kindest 
tones  .  .  .  and  Matt  was  extremely  fond  of  his  mother. 
"  I  suppose  Rachel  will  only  take  enough  things  for 
the  night  and  that  the  girls  will  see  to  her  other  be- 
longings being  sent  after  her  to-morrow.  You  ought 
to  be  in  your  bed  .  .  .  you  are  worn  out  with  all  this 
fuss  and  excitement,  and  no  wonder  that  you  are." 

He  gave  a  look  at  Matty  and  a  jerk  of  his  head 
towards  the  door,  as  if  to  bid  her  see  how  long  Rachel 
would  be  in  getting  ready  to  go  with  him.  Matty 
took  the  hint,  and  she  and  Flo  left  the  room  to- 
gether. 

"  Isn't  it  a  shame  ?"  said  Matty,  as  they  went  up 
the  wide  stairs  in  search  of  Rachel.  "  Now  you  see 
what  I  mean  when  I  say  that  peacemaking  is  not  al- 
ways what  it  seems.  It  ought  to  be  a  perfect  creed, 


132  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

Flo,  and  it  would  be  if  we  could  live  up  to  it ;  as  it 
is,  it  is  a  hideous  travesty,  neither  more  nor  less." 

"  It  is  pretty  much  the  same  with  every  other 
creed  that  ever  I  heard  of,"  replied  Flo,  sensibly. 
"  Most  creeds  would  serve  us  if  we  could  only  live 
up  to  them." 

"  Yes,  but  this  peacemaking  has  only  worked  so 
far  because  my  father  has  never  been  thwarted ;  he 
has  always  been  considered  and  petted  and  made 
much  of  till  any  sign  of  opposition  seems  to  rouse 
him  to  fury." 

"  But  have  you  often  had  scenes  like  this  ?" 

"  Never.  .  .  .  When  my  affair  was  on  foot,  there 
was  no  discussion,  no  argument.  I  never  dared 
to  utter  a  single  word  of  protest.  I  would  as  soon 
then  have  stood  up  to  my  father  as  Rachel  did  to- 
night as  I  would  have  jumped  out  of  my  bedroom 
window.  Indeed,  I  would  rather  have  chosen  the 
window  of  the  two." 

"Then  your  father's  will  has  always  been  abso- 
lute?" 

"Always.  I  have  never  seen  him  as  he  was  to- 
night. What  the  effect  will  be  on  poor,  dear 
mother,  it  is  impossible  to  say.  Are  you  here, 
Rachel?  Are  you  nearly  ready,  dear?  I  would 
only  take  what  you  need  for  the  night  and  the 
morning.  We  will  see  that  your  things  follow  you 
to-morrow." 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  133 

Rachel  looked  round  defiantly.  "  Am  I  doing 
right  to  take  anything  ?"  she  asked,  indignantly. 
"Are  not  all  my  things  belonging  by  right  to  my 
father?" 

"  I  believe  that  he  cannot  by  law  turn  you  out 
into  the  street  wholly  destitute  of  covering,"  re- 
plied Matty,  sensibly.  "  Take  what  you  want,  dear. 
Father  will  not  say  anything  more.  If  he  does,  you 
can  send  them  back  again." 

Rachel  rose  from  the  small  box  that  she  was 
packing  and  looked  at  her  sister.  "  Matty,"  she 
said,  "you  are  older  than  I  am  and  have  known 
father  longer.  Tell  me  why  he  is  so  fascinated  by 
John  Strode  as  he  is  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  We  none  of  us  know,"  Matty 
replied,  shaking  her  head  in  a  puzzled  kind  of  way. 
"  I  suppose  there  must  be  some  bond,  but  what  it  is 
we  have  not  the  very  smallest  idea.  My  poor  dar- 
ling, it  is  hard  on  you  to  be  turned  out  as  if  you 
were  a  servant  who  had  been  caught  stealing,  but  it  is 
better  than  staying  here  in  slavery,  and  slavery  your 
life  would  be  if  you  did  stay.  You  will  be  strong, 
dear,  you  will  be  true  to  yourself  whatever  happens  ? 
Remember,  even  if  you  are  kept,  or  rather  if  we  are 
kept  wholly  apart  from  you,  that  you  have  always 
Matt  to  stand  by  you,  and  Matt  is  a  very  tower  of 
strength." 

"  Matt   will    always    stand    by  you  .  .  .  and   I, 


134  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

though  it  is  little  that  I  can  do  excepting  to  make 
your  brother's  house  pleasant  and  comfortable  to 
you,"  said  Flo,  who,  if  the  truth  be  told,  was  hard 
set  to  keep  her  tongue  within  reasonable  limits  at 
this  juncture. 

Tall  Rachel  bent  down  and  kissed  her.  "  Thank 
you  a  thousand  times,  dear  Flo,"  she  said,  grate- 
fully. "  I  shall  never  forget  it.  As  for  you,  my 
dear,  dear  sister,  there  is  no  need  of  words  between 
us  two.  You  will  always  be  my  true  friend,  I  know, 
and  you  will  look  after  mother  and  not  let  her  fret 
more  than  you  can  help.  Perhaps,  if  he  thinks  of 
it,  father  may  forbid  her  to  speak  to  me,  and  I  may 
not  see  her  again  for  a  long,  long  time ;  but  I  leave 
her  to  you,  and  I  know  that  you'll  do  your  best  not 
to  let  her  dwell  too  much  on  this  wretched  night's 
business." 

Then  she  went  downstairs  to  the  room  where  she 
had  left  her  mother.  Mrs.  Gorman  was  still  sitting, 
or  I  should  say,  half  lying  in  the  large  chair,  and 
looked  like  a  shattered  woman  whom  a  single 
word  might  send  off  into  a  fit  of  violent  hysterics. 
Rachel  went  to  her  side  and  knelt  down.  "  Good- 
bye for  a  little  while,  darling  mother,"  she  said, 
softly.  "  Tell  me  before  I  go  that  you  would  have 
me  be  true  to  myself,  that  you  would  not  like  me  to 
marry  such  a  creature  as  John  Strode." 

Mrs.  Gorman  caught  the  girl  to  her  heart  with  a 


THE    PEACEMAKERS.  135 

sudden  cry.  "  Oh,  my  darling,  my  darling !"  she 
exclaimed,  "  did  you  think  that  I  seemed  to  be  con- 
senting to  such  a  thing,  or  that  I  knew  anything 
of  what  your  father  had  in  his  mind  ?  No,  my 
love,  no,  a  thousand  times  no.  It  would  kill  me  to 
see  it.  I  would  rather  see  you  in  your  coffin  this 
minute  than  married  to  John  Strode  or  such  a  one 
as  him.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  been  stronger 
...  to  have  stood  up  boldly  for  you  as  Matt  did. 
But  I  have  always  gone  with  your  father  ...  it  has 
been  the  habit  of  my  life  to  let  him  decide,  and 
though  nothing  will  ever  make  me  agree  with  this 
arrangement,  I  have  not  the  nerve  to  go  dead 
against  him." 

"  My  poor  mother,"  murmured  Rachel,  gently. 
"  I  understand,  I  understand." 

The  poor  mother  caught  the  girl  to  her  with  a 
convulsive  clasp  as  she  bade  her  adieu,  and  then 
•Matt  drew  her  gently  away,  feeling  that  it  was 
better  for  his  mother  in  her  half-fainting  condition 
that  the  agony  should  be  cut  as  short  as  possible. 
So  Rachel  Gorman  went  from  under  the  roof  of  the 
house  which  was  called  the  Abode  of  Peace  with 
no  knowledge  whether  she  would  ever  set  foot  there 
again. 

As  they  crossed  the  threshold  of  "  The  Larches," 
Matt  took  his  sister  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her. 
"  This  is  a  sorry  welcome  for  your  first  visit  to  us, 


136  THE    PEACEMAKERS. 

old  girl,"  he  said,  with  rough  kindness,  "  but,  at  all 
events,  you  will  be  free  from  John  Strode  and  most 
of  his  works  as  long  as  you  stay  here." 

"You  don't  know  what  a  haven  of  refuge  it  is, 
though,"  returned  Rachel,  quickly.  "  I  dread  to 
think  what  might  have  come  if  there  had  been  no 
"  Larches"  to  come  to." 

"  And  the  very  first  thing  you  will  have  to  do  is 
a  little  housemaid's  work,"  said  Flo,  trying  to  make 
a  joke  of  the  unusual  circumstance.  "  For  the  ser- 
vants have  certainly  gone  to  bed,  and  we  must  make 
up  your  bed  ourselves.  Come  along,  we  can  air  the 
sheets  by  my  bedroom  fire  while  yours  burns  up." 

And  thus  it  was  that  on  this  eventful  night  there 
was  one  more  denizen  at  "The  Larches"  and  one 
less  under  the  roof  of  the  Abode  of  Peace. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

A  WAY   OUT   OF  THE   DIFFICULTY. 

What  a  wonderful  thing  love  is !  How  it  lights  up,  smoothes,  and 
beautifies  the  pathway  of  life !  It  is  like  a  torch  kindled  with  fire 
from  heaven. 

ALMOST  the  first  person  that  Matt  met  when  he 
went  to  business  the  following  morning  was  his  new 
friend,  Brooke  Barty.  If  the  exact  truth  be  told, 
Brooke  Barty  was  purposely  looking  out  for  Matt, 
and  as  they  grasped  hands,  he  went  straight  to  the 
point  and  blurted  out  just  what  was  in  his  mind. 
"  Look  here,  Gorman,"  he  said,  speaking  in  open 
honest  tones,  "  I  daresay  you'll  think  me  a  meddle- 
some, prying  sort  of  chap,  but  I  want  to  ask  you  a 
plain  question." 

"Ask  it  by  all  means,"  said  Matt,  who  had  no 
notion  of  trying  to  hush  up  the  truth  about  the  affair 
of  the  previous  evening,  and  guessing  from  Brooke 
Barty's  manner  that  the  question  was  in  some  way 
relating  to  that  matter. 

"  Well,  it's  just  this.  Is  your  sister  engaged  to 
that  fellow  Strode  or  not  ?" 

"  Certainly  not.  She  would  rather  die  than  marry 
John  Strode,  and,  with  the  exception  of  my  father, 


138  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

we  would  all  infinitely  rather  see  her  dead  than 
married  to  him." 

"  Then  what  made  your  father  make  such  an  an- 
nouncement as  he  did  last  night  ?  Gorman,  believe 
me,  I  am  not  asking  this  from  idle  curiosity." 

If  he  had  noticed  nothing  of  Barty's  unmistakable 
admiration  for  Rachel,  Matt  would  have  suspected 
the  state  of  his  feelings  from  his  tone  and  manner. 
It  did  not,  however,  suit  him  to  see  too  much  just 
then.  He  was  a  very  wise  and  long-headed  young 
man,  and  knew  when  to  shut  his  eyes  as  well  as 
most  men.  "  My  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  simply,  "  you 
have  a  perfect  right  to  have  an  explanation  of  the 
barbarous  scene  that  you  were  let  in  for  last  night. 
And  as  far  as  I  can  explain  it  to  you,  I  will.  Turn 
back  with  me  if  you  are  not  pressed  for  time  .  .  . 
no,  I'll  wheel  my  bicycle  along.  I  don't  bring  it  so 
much  for  getting  to  the  Works  as  for  getting  back 
to  my  lunch  in  something  like  time.  As  to  the 
affair  of  last  night,  I  can  hardly  give  you  a  full  ex- 
planation, for  I  don't  quite  know  what  it  means  m)'- 
self.  My  father,  who  is  a  singularly  shrewd  man  on 
most  points,  has  what  I  can  only  call  a  craze  for  this 
John  Strode,  whom  we  all  cordially  loathe.  Strode 
wants  to  marry  my  sister,  Rachel,  which  isn't  to  be 
wondered  at,  and  he's  the  sort  of  brute  who  would 
stick  at  nothing  to  get  his  own  way;  Most  men 
wouldn't  look  at  a  girl  who  systematically  and 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  139 

openly  flouted  and  scorned  them,  and  I  can  safely 
say  that  I  never  heard  Rachel  give  John  Strode  a 
civil  word  in  my  life.  However,  my  father  wishes 
her  to  marry  him  ;  and  my  father,  having  been  utterly 
spoiled  by  my  mother,  who  is  a  veritable  saint, 
though  I  do  think  a  mistaken  one  in  that  respect, 
has  simply  no  idea  of  any  one  of  his  children  having 
a  will  of  their  own  or  any  desires  but  his.  I  foresaw 
this  years  ago,  and  I  bargained  when  I  went  into 
partnership  with  him  that  in  all  the  affairs  of  life 
apart  from  the  Works  I  should  be  as  free  as  if  I 
were  a  perfect  stranger  coming  into  the  business  from 
a  distance.  Thankful  I  have  been  ever  since,  I  can 
tell  you.  With  my  sisters  it  was,  of  course,  rather 
different.  They  are  entirely  dependent  on  him,  and 
he  can  rule  the  roast  for  them  in  a  way  which  he 
would  never  try  to  do  for  me.  I  suppose  he  thought 
if  he  brought  matters  between  Rachel  and  Strode  to 
a  climax  by  publicly  announcing  their  engagement 
Rachel  wouldn't  have  pluck  enough  to  assert  herself 
by  repudiating  it.  You  saw,  however,  that  she  had 
quite  as  much  pluck  as  was  necessary." 

"  I  did,"  returned  Brooke  Barty,  whose  eyes  were 
blazing.  "  And  did  anything  happen  after  we  left  ?" 

"  There  was  a  right  royal  row,  out  of  which  Rachel 
came  victor  to  the  extent  of  not  giving  way  one 
single  inch.  But  my  father  ordered  her  out  of  the 
house." 


i4o  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  What!" 

"  Yes,  it  came  to  that,  more's  the  pity." 

"  And  where  is  she  now  ?" 

"  Oh,  we  took  her  home  with  us.  Why,  man 
alive,  you  don't  suppose  I  was  going  to  stand  by  and 
see  even  my  own  father  bully  one  of  my  sisters  into 
desperation  for  such  a  cause  ?  Not  I.  I  am  probably 
the  only  person  in  the  world  of  whom  my  father 
stands  in  a  certain  amount  of  awe.  If  I  had  had  the 
least  inkling  of  what  was  likely  to  happen,  I  could 
and  would  have  prevented  the  whole  affair.  But  it 
was  sprung  upon  me  so  unexpectedly  that  I  hadn't  a 
chance  of  doing  more  than  I  did,  that  was  to  take 
her  out  of  the  way  of  persecution." 

For  a  minute  or  so  Brooke  Barty  did  not  speak. 
Then  he  said,  in  a  curiously  strained  voice,  "  I'm 
glad  you  did  that,  old  fellow."  Then  he  burst  out 
laughing,  as  the  absurdity  of  the  situation  struck 
him.  "  I  say,  Gorman,  it's  devilish  cheeky  of  me  to 
be  calmly  patronizing  you  about  your  behaviour  to 
your  own  sister,  but  the  truth  is  I  take  a  good  deal 
of  interest  in  that  sister  of  yours,  and  your  father's 
announcement  last  night  was  a  fearful  blow  to  me,  or 
rather  would  have  been  a  fearful  blow  if  she  hadn't 
stood  up  for  herself  so  splendidly  as  she  did.  Now 
you  understand  why  I  wanted  to  know  the  rights  of 
things." 

Matt  laughed  good-naturedly.    "  Is  that  so  ?   Well, 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  141 

I'm  afraid  my  father  won't  give  you  much  encourage- 
ment as  long  as  John  Strode  is  to  the  front  and  while 
he  feels  that  Rachel  ought  to  give  in  to  him." 

"  I  daresay  not.  However,  my  great  anxiety  is 
not  on  the  score  of  your  father.  Tell  me,  was  he 
.  always  given  to  this  sort  of  thing  ?" 

"  Not  at  all.  The  fact  is,  some  years  ago  he 
started  a  little  religion  of  his  own  .  .  .  oh,  well,  be- 
fore any  of  us  were  born,  before  he  was  married,  in 
fact ;  and  as  nobody  ever  says  nay  to  him,  naturally 
never  at  the  Works,  and  as  he  stands  the  major  part 
of  the  expense  of  his  place  of  worship,  equally  nat- 
urally there  also,  he  has  got  so  accustomed  to  having 
his  own  that  he  simply  cannot  stand  it  when  anyone 
belonging  to  him  expresses  a  different  view  to  his 
own.  It  must  have  struck  you  as  very  funny  last 
night  that  you  should  be  let  in  for  such  a  scene  in  a 
house  called  the  Abode  of  Peace,  at  the  table  of 
a  man  who  prides  himself  that  his  religion  is  that  of 
a  Peacemaker." 

"  Is  that  what  he  calls  himself?" 

"  He  does,  indeed.  My  poor  little  sister  launched 
out,  after  every  one  had  gone,  on  the  matter  of  the 
Peacemakers  .  .  .  and,  by  Jove,  she  let  fly  some  ter- 
rible home-truths  while  she  was  about  it." 

"  Did  she,  though  ?  Then  she  is  not  wedded  to 
the  sect  ...  I  suppose  you  do  call  it  a  sect,  don't 
you  ?" 


i42  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  so.  I  can't  answer  for  my  sisters, 
but  I  expect  that  they  have  done  all  along  just  as  I 
have, — that  is,  gone  to  sanctuary  and  put  up  with  the 
show  solely  for  the  sake  of.  pleasing  my  father,  when 
left  to  themselves  they  would  have  drifted  to  church 
as  naturally  as  they  eat  their  dinner  every  night 
And  talking  of  dinner,  by  the  bye,  will  you  venture 
on  coming  out  and  dining  with  us  one  evening  ?  I 
can  promise  you  there  shall  be  no  surprises  such  as 
you  had  last  night." 

Brooke  Barty  flushed  up  eagerly  all  over  his  face. 
"  Really,  old  fellow,  you  are  too  kind,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  come." 

"Then  we  had  better  fix  a  night  at  once.  We 
shall  not  be  going  out  anywhere  this  week.  What 
night  will  suit  you  ?" 

"  Any  one  at  all.  May  I  go  up  and  call,  and  then 
perhaps  Mrs.  Matthew  will  settle  it  herself?  Yes? 
Then  I'll  go  out  this  afternoon." 

"  All  right.  I'll  tell  my  wife  when  I  go  home  to 
lunch  that  you  are  coming  and  that  I  have  asked  you 
to  arrange  an  evening  for  dining  with  her." 

So  the  two  young  men  parted,  Matt  Gorman  feel- 
ing that  he  had  made  a  most  useful  and  successful 
move,  and  Brooke  Barty  with  the  pleasant  sensation 
that  he  was  one  stage  nearer  to  the  goal  of  his  earthly 
happiness. 

Matt  when  he  reached  the  Works  found  that  his 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  143 

father  was  already  there  and  had  been  asking  for  him. 
He  went,  therefore,  at  once  to  the  chiefs  private 
office  and  cheerfully  bade  him  good-morning,  ex- 
actly as  if  nothing  unusual  had  occurred  the  previous 
evening.  "  Shut  the  door.  I  want  to  speak  to  you," 
said  Mr.  Gorman,  in  a  constrained  voice. 

Matt  shut  the  door  quietly  and  sat  down  on  the 
chair  which  faced  Mr.  Gorman's  own.  There  was  a 
moment's  silence,  then  the  old  man  cleared  his  throat 
as  a  preliminary  to  saying  what  in  truth  he  found 
most  awkward  to  say  just  then.  "  How  is  your  wife  ?" 
he  asked  at  last. 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you,  sir,"  replied  Matt. 

"  Was  she  .  .  .  was  she " 

"A  good  deal  shaken?"  suggested  his  son, 
promptly.  "  Well,  yes,  sir ;  I  must  admit  that  she 
was  a  good  deal  shaken  by  what  occurred, — a  good 
deal." 

"  I  don't  see  .  .  ."  the  old  man  began,  rather  in  a  flur- 
ried kind  of  way,  when  Matt  blandly  interrupted  him. 

"  Well,  you  see,  sir,  she  had  never  a  suspicion  that 
our  particular  creed  was  not  all  that  it  seems  to  be 
on  the  surface,  and  it  came  with  rather  a  shock  when 
she  found  that  its  tenets  only  hold  good  when  they 
happen  to  fit  in  with  your  wishes.  You  mustn't 
blame  her,  sir." 

"  I'm  not  blaming  her,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  testily. 
"All  this  is  quite  beside  the  question.  I  suppose 


144  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

you  mean  to  go  on  backing  up  Rachel  in  her  dis- 
graceful attitude  against  me  ?" 

Matt  sat  well  back  in  his  chair  and  looked  steadily 
at  his  father.  "  So  long  as  you  are  trying  to  drive 
her  into  a  marriage  which  would  be  equally  a  dis- 
grace to  her  and  to  me,"  he  said,  deliberately,  "  yes, 
sir,  I  do  intend  to  back  her  up." 

"And  to  harbour  her?"  the  old  man  suddenly 
snapped  out. 

"  If  you  like  to  put  it  so,  sir,"  returned  Matt, 
calmly. 

"  Your  mother  thinks  with  me,"  Mr.  Gorman  be- 
gan, but  Matt  broke  in  more  sharply  than  he  had 
yet  spoken. 

"  My  mother  has  grown  so  accustomed  to  going 
with  you,  and  her  love  and  duty  to  you  have  become 
such  a  religion  with  her,  that  she  cannot  now  bring 
herself  to  go  dead  against  you  in  anything,"  he  said, 
quietly.  "  But  it  is  useless  to  tell  me  that  she  would 
like  a  child  of  hers  to  marry  a  blatant  cad  like  John 
Strode." 

"  She  is  broken-hearted." 

"  Not  at  the  fact  that  Rachel  refuses  to  listen  to 
John  Strode,"  cried  Matt,  quickly.  "  Don't  tell  me 
that,  sir.  Broken-hearted,  perhaps,  to  see  her  own 
child,  her  youngest,  the  baby,  turned  out  like  a  thief 
into  the  street." 

"  She  turned  herself  out,"  Mr.  Gorman  cried. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  145 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,  it  was  you  who  first  suggested 
such  an  alternative,  and  it  was  then  that  I  stepped  in 
and  bade  her  come  with  me ;  and  I  would  do  it  again 
to-morrow.  And  I  would  do  it  if  my  mother  and 
you  and  my  three  sisters  were  all  against  me  in 
opinion." 

"  I  have  a  right  to  give  my  daughters  to  whom  I 
will." 

"  No,  sir,  that  you  have  not.  You  have  no  right 
to  force  any  man  or  woman  into  a  marriage  which 
is  distasteful  to  them.  And  I  must  say  that  it  passes 
my  comprehension  why  you  should  wish  to  sacrifice 
your  own  young  daughter,  your  own  flesh  and  blood, 
to  a  fellow  who  is,  who  can  be,  nothing  to  you." 

"  You  mistake.  John  Strode  is  something  to  me," 
the  old  man  cried.  "  And,  moreover,  I  have  given 
him  my  word  and  I  cannot  go  back  from  it.  I  have 
never  broken  my  word  in  my  life,  nor  do  I  intend  to 
begin  to  suit  the  silly  whims  and  caprices  of  a  girl 
who  does  not  know  her  own  mind." 

"  Well,  sir,  it  is  no  use  to  argue  the  point  further," 
said  Matt,  quietly,  "  for  we  shall  never  agree  even 
were  we  to  talk  till  doomsday.  We  must  agree  to 
differ,  but,  before  we  close  this  very  unpleasant  dis- 
cussion, I  would  like  to  ask  you  a  question.  You 
spoke  just  now  of  my  mother  being  heart  broken. 
Do  you  happen  to  know  that  she  fainted  dead  away 
after  she  left  the  dining-room  last  night  ?" 

10 


i46  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  I  did  not  know  it." 

"  It  is  a  fact,  nevertheless.  She  was  a  long  time 
coming  round,  and  she  was  more  shattered  than  even 
the  occasion  seemed  to  warrant.  If  I  were  you,  sir, 
if  you  will  allow  me  to  say  so  without  in  any  way 
wishing  to  give  you  offence,  if  I  were  you,  sir,  I 
would  not  press  my  mother's  love  too  near  to  break- 
ing point.  I  think  it  more  than  possible  you  might 
do  so." 

"  That  is  a  question  which  I  neither  can  nor  will 
discuss  with  you,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  speaking  very 
stiffly.  "  We  will  not  enter  into  the  main  subject 
again,  if  you  please.  I  am  to  understand  that  you 
intend  to  continue  in  your  defiance  of  my  wishes ; 
therefore,  out  of  business  hours,  we  will  see  as  little 
of  each  other  as  possible." 

"  Very  good,  sir.  Then  I  shall  take  opportunities 
of  visiting  my  mother  when  I  know  that  you  are  not 
at  home."  And  then  Matt  rose  and  went  away  in 
just  his  ordinary  manner  as  if  he  had  been  discussing 
no  more  important  matter  with  his  father  than  the 
usual  business  letters  received  by  almost  every  post. 
But  from  that  hour,  between  the  two  who  had  been 
such  good  friends  in  days  gone  by,  there  came  a 
chasm  which  grew  wider  and  wider  with  every  day 
that  went  over  their  heads.  From  that  day  Mr. 
Gorman  forewent  his  customary  greetings  when  he 
and  his  son  met.  Matt  always  said,  "  Good-morning, 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  147 

sir;  how  is  my  mother  to-day?"  in  perfectly  civil 
tones,  yet  tones  nevertheless  which  seemed  to  say 
to  his  father,  "  Thus  far  do  you  come  and  no  fur- 
ther." And,  on  his  side,  Mr.  Gorman  seemed  to  feel 
instinctively  that  his  customary  mode  of  address 
would,  at  this  juncture,  be  as  much  out  of  place  as 
it  would  be  were  he  to  strike  his  son  in  the  face 
whenever  and  wherever  they  chanced  to  meet  each 
other.  So  he  always  replied  to  Matt's  questions, 
"  Good-morning.  Your  mother  is  well,"  or,  "  Your 
mother  is  not  very  well  to-day."  If  it  was  the 
latter  reply,  Matt  invariably  made  answer,  "  I'm 
sorry  to  hear  that.  I'll  go  in  and  see  her  on  my 
way  home." 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

ON   A   LONELY   PATH. 

In  the  lives  of  most  women  and  men  there  comes  a  time,  sooner 
or  later,  when  they  feel  that  they  are  Ishmaels  to  the  rest  of  the  world. 

IF  society  in  Mullingham  in  general,  and  in  the 
community  of  the  Peacemakers  in  particular,  was 
very  much  upset  by  the  trouble  at  the  Abode  of  Peace, 
the  Gorman  family  did  not  know  very  much  about 
it.  Those  who  had  been  present  at  the  memorable 
dinner  when  Mr.  Gorman  had  announced  Rachel's 
engagement  to  John  Strode  naturally  talked  to  each 
other  concerning  the  extraordinary  mistake  which 
the  old  gentleman  had  made. 

"  It  seems  a  queer  thing  that  a  man  should  make 
a  mistake  on  such  a  point  as  that,"  remarked  one  old 
gentleman  who  had  been  present  to  the  wife  of  his 
bosom. 

"Yes;  but  there  was  no  mistake  about  Rachel; 
she  was  outspoken  enough,  poor  child.  Between 
ourselves,  Joe,  I  don't  think  that  the  family  knew 
anything  at  all  about  the  matter, — not  any  of  them." 

"  John  Strode  did,"  replied  Joe,  promptly.  "  I  was 
looking  straight  at  him  when  the  announcement  was 
made,  and  I  saw  it  on  his  face  as  plainly  as  I  ever 
148 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  149 

saw  anything  on  a  human  face  in  my  life.  He  looked 
as  if  he  had  trapped  her.  There  was  no  mistake 
about  it." 

"  And  yet  there  was  a  mistake,"  said  the  old  lady. 
"  She  will  never  marry  John  Strode.  I  wonder  if  we 
shall  ever  hear  the  upshot  of  the  matter  ?" 

"  Of  course  we  shall  know  after  a  while  whether 
they  are  to  be  married  or  not.  You  may  hear  some- 
thing when  you  call." 

"  I  shall  call  on  Thursday,"  said  the  lady. 

Everybody  who  had  been  present  at  the  dinner 
called  at  the  Abode  of  Peace  on  the  following  Thurs- 
day, and  a  good  many  also  went  who  had  not  been 
present  but  who  had  heard  a  rumour  of  what  had 
happened.  Mrs.  Gorman  was  indisposed,  suffering, 
Matty  said,  from  a  severe  headache.  Mrs.  Gorman 
did  suffer  from  headaches  at  times,  so  that  there  was 
nothing  very  unusual  in  the  announcement.  The 
general  conduct  of  the  house  was  very  much  as  usual. 
Mr.  Gorman  was  not  there,  but  then  he  hardly  ever 
was  present  on  his  wife's  "  At  Home"  days. 

"  And  where  is  Rachel  ?"  asked  the  lady  who  had 
called  her  husband  Joe. 

"  Rachel  is  staying  with  Matt  and  his  wife." 

"  Oh,  is  she  ?     I  hope  she  is  well." 

"  Oh,  yes,  very  well,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Smithers, 
extremely  well,"  replied  Matty. 

Mrs.  Matthew  came  in  in  the  course  of  the  after- 


150  THE  PEACEMAKERS. 

noon,  but  was  not  accompanied  by  Rachel ;  Matt 
himself  did  not  put  in  an  appearance. 

So  those  who  had  gone  to  spy  out  any  nakedness 
in  the  land  and  to  see  what  they  could  see,  went 
away  but  little  the  wiser.  There  was  nothing  unusual 
in  a  young  girl  paying  a  visit  to  her  married  brother 
and  his  young  wife,  and  at  all  events  from  Mrs.  Gor- 
man's "  At  Home"  day  little  or  nothing  was  gathered 
by  the  friends  and  acquaintances  of  the  family. 

So  the  days  passed  by  without  any  material  change. 
Mr.  Gorman  had  not  apparently  altered  his  determi- 
nation that  Rachel  should  be  shut  out  of  her  home 
unless  she  was  willing  to  comply  with  his  commands. 
The  suffering  look  had  settled  more  completely 
down  upon  his  wife's  face  than  ever,  and  when  Flo 
saw  her  she  was  more  than  ever  certain  that  her 
mother-in-law  was  the  victim  of  some  terrible  and 
secret  sorrow,  borne  in  patient  and  uncomplaining 
silence.  As  for  the  girls,  they  were  one  and  all  very 
proud.  In  spite  of  their  buoyant  spirits,  their  charm- 
ing and  unaffected  manners,  they  instinctively  shrank 
from  commenting  on  their  father's  peculiarities  and 
on  their  sister's  misfortunes.  So  when  some  among 
their  friends  less  delicate  in  touch  than  others,  would 
fain  have  coaxed  the  truth  out  of  them,  they  drew 
back  and  made  it  plain  to  be  seen  that  this  was  a 
subject  too  sacred  for  even  intimate  friendship  to 
handle. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  151 

So  the  days  went  on  one  after  another,  until  Sun- 
day came  round  again.  Then,  of  the  entire  Gorman 
family,  only  Mr.  Gorman  himself  occupied  the  long 
pew  which  was  arranged  to  hold  eight  persons. 

"  You  will  go  to  sanctuary  this  morning,  Matty," 
said  Mrs.  Gorman. 

"  Not  this  morning,  mother,"  Matty  replied. 

"  I  am  not  fit  to  go,"  said  Mrs.  Gorman,  passing 
her  hand  across  her  eyes. 

"  No,  of  course  you  are  not,  and  I  shall  stay  with 
you.  Oh,  here  is  father." 

Mr.  Gorman  came  into  the  well-shaded  room  with 
quiet  footsteps. 

"  Are  you  suffering,  my  dear  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  my  head  is  dreadful,  Edward ;  I  shall  not 
be  able  to  go  to  sanctuary  this  morning." 

"  No,  no ;  that  is  not  to  be  thought  of  for  a 
moment.  You  should  keep  quiet;  and  Matty  will 
stay  with  you,  will  you  not,  Matty  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  will  stay  with  my  mother,"  said  Matty. 

She  had  spoken  truly  when  she  had  said  to  her 
sister-in-law  that  for  fear  of  her  very  life  she  would 
not  have  dared  openly  to  defy  her  father  as  her  young 
sister  Rachel  had  done.  But  yet  the  events  of  the 
few  preceding  days  had,  as  it  were,  endued  her  with 
a  strength  which  was  not  her  own, — I  mean  with  a 
strength  that  was  not  natural  to  her, — and  in  the  face 
of  her  mother's  suffering  she  felt  that  she  could  have 


i52  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

stood  up  to  him  almost  as  pluckily  as  Rachel  herself 
could  have  done. 

On  his  way  downstairs  he  met  with  his  second 
daughter  Polly,  who  was  evidently  on  her  way  from 
the  breakfast-room  to  her  bedroom. 

"  Have  you  seen  your  mother  this  morning  ?"  he 
enquired. 

"  No,  not  this  morning,  father.  I  am  going  to  her 
in  a  few  minutes." 

"  She  is  not  well,"  said  Mr.  Gorman.  "  Matty  is 
going  to  stay  with  her.  You  will  go  to  sanctuary 
with  me,  I  suppose,  you  and  Beth  ?" 

"  I  am  not  going  to  sanctuary  this  morning,  father," 
said  Polly.  She  looked  at  him  straight  in  the  eyes 
as  she  spoke. 

"  May  I  ask  why  not  ?" 

"  Because  I  don't  feel  like  it,"  she  replied. 

"  If  you  don't  feel  like  it  you  are  better  away,"  he 
said,  speaking  very  quietly. 

It  was  the  wisest  course  that  he  could  possibly 
have  taken,  but  he  went  on  his  way  with  the  feeling 
that  the  scene  which  had  taken  place  a  few  evenings 
before  had  been  the  first  blow  struck  at  the  root 
of  his  domestic  happiness.  He  never  enquired  for 
Beth,  nor  did  he  seek  her  out;  on  the  contrary,  he 
passed  into  the  library  and  seated  himself  in  his 
accustomed  place  at  the  table. 

For  a  few  moments  he  sat  there  leaning  his  head 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  153 

upon  his  hand  thinking,  thinking  deeply,  that  during 
all  these  years  that  he  had  been  living  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  peace,  amid  surroundings  of  contentment 
and  ease  and  luxury,  of  beneficent  affection  on  the 
one  side  and  willing  obedience  on  the  other,  he  had 
been  living  a  life  which  was  a  sham.  The  heart  of 
Edward  Gorman  was  hard  within  him ;  so  hard  and 
so  sorely  stricken  with  what  he  called  to  himself  the 
rebelliousness  of  his  children,  as  he  put  it  in  his  own 
thoughts,  that  he  opened  his  secret  cupboard  and 
took  out  once  more  the  portrait  of  her  who  had 
been  his  heart's  first  love, — his  heart's  only  love,  if  I 
tell  the  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth.  To  him 
she  had  never  changed.  There  in  the  miniature, 
aye,  and  in  his  heart,  was  the  same  radiant,  rich 
beauty  which  he  had  known  forty  years  before ;  its 
vivid  tints  had  been  undimmed  by  the  hand  of  time, 
which  had  bleached  the  thick  blond  tresses  of  his 
wife,  who  lay  in  pain  and  sorrow  in  her  room  above. 
There  was  the  same  merry  light  in  the  eyes,  the 
same  dimples  about  the  sweet,  smiling  mouth.  Time 
had  not  altered  them  any  more  than  time  had 
changed  the  hunger  of  his  heart.  His  wife,  who 
had  borne  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day,  she  had 
changed  with  the  years  that  were  gone  by,  quite  as 
much  as  he  had  done.  The  picture  of  his  first  love 
remained  unchanged,  gay  as  a  little  painted  craft 
which  had  sailed  away  upon  a  summer  sea ;  the  wife 


154  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

who  had  patiently  forded  through  the  rougher  and 
deeper  waters  of  a  lifetime  was  as  unlike  to  the  first 
love  as  the  gaily-painted  little  craft  of  a  summer's 
morning  is  to  the  boat  which  has  weathered  the 
storms  of  forty  voyages.  I  suppose  it  is  but  human 
that  we  should  think  more  of  the  gaily-painted  craft 
which  has  seen  no  service  than  of  the  weather-beaten 
boat  which  has  borne  so  many  lives  over  troublous 
waters.  Certain  is  it  that  Edward  Gorman  was  think- 
ing that  Sabbath  morning  only  of  the  old  love  who 
had  been  his  and  yet  never  his,  and  not  at  all  of  the 
wife  who  had  given  her  life  for  his  happiness. 

"  My  lost  love,"  he  murmured ;  "  it  is  for  you,  all 
for  you.  I  had  so  schooled  myself  to  a  life  without 
you  that  I  believed  myself  almost  contented.  But 
they  don't  understand  me ;  they  don't  realize  that  it 
is  for  you ;  they  don't  understand  that  it  is  for  you. 
So  they  thwart  me,  and  I  bear  it,  because  it  is  for 
you — for  you  only." 

Then  the  little  clock  before  him  on  the  table 
struck  two  sharp  tiny  strokes,  which  recalled  him  to 
himself.  He  closed  the  case,  laid  it  reverently  back 
in  its  hiding-place  as  in  a  shrine,  and  stood  up, 
shaking  his  shoulders  back  as  if  it  was  with  no 
small  effort  that  he  would  take  up  the  burden  of  life 
once  more. 

But  no  troubles  seemed  to  change  the  regular 
routine  of  Edward  Gorman's  life.  That  morning 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  155 

when  he  seemed  to  be  as  suddenly  bereft  of  all  his 
domestic  peace  and  happiness  as  if  an  earthquake 
had  demolished  his  dwelling,  he  brushed  his  hat  as 
carefully  as  was  his  wont,  smoothing  it  afterwards 
with  a  velvet  pad  as  if  he  were  a  bridegroom  going 
to  his  bridal.  Then  he  rang  the  bell. 

"  My  coat,"  he  said  to  the  man  who  answered  the 
summons. 

The  man,  anticipating  his  master's  wishes,  had 
brought  a  light  overcoat  with  him  and  assisted  him 
to  put  it  on  with  ready  hands. 

"  Your  gloves,  sir  ?"  he  said. 

"Thank  you,  yes;  and  my  stick." 

"  I  think  it  is  likely  for  rain,  sir,"  said  the 
man. 

"  I  will  take  my  stick,"  said  Mr.  Gorman ;  "  if  it 
rains,  you  can  send  the  carriage  for  me." 

Then  he  went  out  of  the  house  and  walked  alone 
to  the  sanctuary  which  he  had  created,  the  sanc- 
tuary against  the  shadow  of  a  broken  heart,  that 
sanctuary  which,  only  that  morning,  he  had  believed 
to  be  a  real  place  of  safety,  that  sanctuary  in  which 
others  seemed  to  find  no  rest,  no  peace. 

He  had  been  in  hopes,  or  perhaps  I  use  too 
strong  a  word,  and  should  say  that  he  had  been 
in  some  expectation  that  Matthew,  or,  at  all  events, 
Mrs.  Matthew,  would  not  have  deserted  him  that 
morning.  But  of  those  at  "  The  Larches,"  none  went 


156  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

that  day  to  swell  the  congregation  at  the  sanctuary. 
One  or  two  of  the  older  members  of  the  community 
greeted  him  with  the  formula  "  The  Lord's  peace  be 
upon  you,  Mr.  Gorman,"  and  received  for  reply  the 
customary  answer,  "And  upon  you  also."  But 
none  stayed  him,  as  was  the  common  habit  of  the 
Peacemakers  on  Sabbath  mornings.  He  passed  to 
his  seat  and  sat  there  stern  and  forbidding,  a  marked 
and  solitary  figure,  stiff  with  pride,  forbidding  and 
resolute  of  purpose. 

Nor  did  the  service,  which  was  beautiful,  tend  to 
soften  his  mood.  The  prayers  seemed  to  be  more 
peace-breathing  and  tender  than  usual ;  the  lessons 
chanced  to  be  two  poems,  one  culled  from  Eccle- 
siastes,  the  other  from  the  gospel  of  St.  Matthew ; 
the  hymns  were  especially  favourite  ones,  and  the 
text  consisted  of  the  words,  "  Peace,  be  still."  I 
have  said  before  that  from  the  silver-haired  old  pas- 
tor of  the  sanctuary  there  came  no  denunciations  of 
sin  or  crime.  His  sermons  breathed  peace,  and  this 
one  was  more  redolent  of  the  virtue  of  tenderness 
than  many  of  that  small  community  could  remem- 
ber to  have  heard  in  that  place  before.  The  hymn 
with  which  they  ended  the  service  was  one  which 
might  well  have  gone  home  to  Edward  Gorman's 
heart,  softening  it  with  drops  of  the  blessed  oil  of 
charity  and  love.  But,  alas !  his  heart  was  hardened, 
hardened  as  was  the  heart  of  Pharaoh  in  the  days 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  157 

thousands  of  years  ago  when  he  would  not  let  the 
people  of  Israel  go : 

A  HYMN  OF  PEACE. 
"  Peace  in  our  Borders." 

In  childhood's  simple  days, 
Let  ours  be  gentler  ways ; 
May  strife  and  quarrels  cease, 
Give  us,  dear  Lord,  Thy  peace, 
Dear  Lord !  dear  Lord ! 

In  later  days,  may  we 
Peaceably  live  in  Thee ; 
And  for  our  great  reward, 
Give  us  Thy  peace,  dear  Lord, 
Dear  Lord  !  dear  Lord ! 

When  age  comes  creeping  on, 
And  life  a  victory  won ; 
Peace  over  strife  our  cry, 
So  win  Thy  peace  on  high, 

Dear  Lord  !  dear  Lord. 

Until  the  last  of  the  congregation  had  passed  out 
of  the  sanctuary  Mr.  Gorman  did  not  move  from  his 
seat.  He  did  not  remain  longer  upon  his  knees  than 
was  usual  with  him,  but  he  sat  with  folded  arms, 
looking  with  burning  eyes  straight  at  the  altar,  with 
its  array  of  pure  white  flowers,  apparently  oblivious 
to  the  fact  that  more  than  one  would  have  spoken 
to  him  as  they  passed  had  he  but  turned  his  head. 
Then  he  stood  upright  and  walked  slowly  and  sol- 
emnly down  the  broad,  softly  carpeted  aisle. 


i58  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Gorman,"  said  a  voice, — a  voice 
which,  alas !  he  knew  too  well,  the  voice  of  Mrs. 
Johnson-Biggs, — "  my  dear  Mr.  Gorman,  I  hope  that 
there  is  nothing  wrong  at  the  Abode  of  Peace  ?" 

Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  had  not,  I  need  hardly  say, 
been  present  at  the  memorable  dinner-party ;  indeed, 
she  had  not,  up  to  that  time,  heard  a  single  word  of 
the  extraordinary  announcement  which  had  taken 
place  thereat.  "  My  dear  Mr.  Gorman,  I  hope  that 
your  dear  wife  is  not  ill  ?" 

"  My  wife  is  indisposed  this  morning,  I  thank  you," 
said  Mr.  Gorman,  taking  off  his  hat  with  a  flourish. 
"  May  the  Lord's  peace  be  with  you !" 

"  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Gorman ;  I  feel  that  it  is  so. 
May  it  rest  on  you  also,  and  upon  yours,"  was  her 
glib  reply. 

"  Is  it  too  much  to  enquire  what  is  amiss  with  your 
dear  lady  ?" 

"  My  wife  is  suffering  from  a  neuralgic  headache," 
said  Mr.  Gorman,  in  dangerously  mild  accents.  I 
say  dangerously  mild,  because  he  had  no  idea  that 
his  interlocutor  was  in  total  ignorance  of  the  events 
which  had  transpired  lately  under  his  roof,  and  he 
was  disposed  to  treat  her  affectionate  and  solicitous 
enquiries  as  inquisitive  impertinence  rather  than 
neighbourly  kindness. 

At  the  term  "  neuralgic  headache"  Mrs.  Johnson- 
Biggs,  who  belonged  to  that  class  of  persons  who  set 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  159 

down  all  inconvenient  disorders  under  the  generic 
and  fashionable  term  of  neuralgia,  cast  her  eyes  up 
to  heaven  and  went  off  into  a  paroxysm  of  sympa- 
thetic regret. 

"  Oh,  poor  thing !"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  very  loud 
voice.  "  Oh,  poor,  dear  thing !  How  hard  it  is  to 
think  that  the  demon  neuralgia  should  dare  to  set  its 
insidious  foot  within  the  Abode  of  Peace  itself!" 

"  My  house,  madam,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  in  tones 
of  stiff  rebuke,  "  is  as  subject  to  the  ills  which  beset 
ordinary  humanity  as  any  other  house." 

"  It  ought  not  to  be,  dear  Mr.  Gorman.  If  any  one 
should  have  immunity  from  the  ills  to  which  human 
nature  is  prone,  it  should  be  your  dear  and  sweet 
wife.  Fond  wife,  devoted  mother,  true  friend,  sincere 
Peacemaker " 

"  Madam,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  "  I  thank  you  for 
your  good  opinion  of  my  wife,  but  you  cannot  en- 
lighten me  as  to  her  virtues.  I  will  bid  you  good- 
morning." 

"  Dear  me !"  said  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs,  as  she  stood 
staring  after  the  tall  figure  stalking  away  down  the 
road,  "  I  meant  no  offence,  I'm  sure.  Most  people 
are  not  so  touchy  when  you  pay  them  compliments ! 
Did  you  hear  what  he  said,  Mrs.  Smith?"  she  en- 
quired, turning  to  the  wife  of  the  chief  cashier,  who 
had  just  parted  from  a  friend  and  was  standing  with 
outstretched  hand  to  greet  her. 


160  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  Lor' !  my  dear,  haven't  you  heard  ?" 

"Heard?     No.     What?" 

"  Why,  there  has  been  a  most  awful  rumpus  at 
the  Abode  of  Peace ;  even  an  ordinary  church  family 
couldn't  have  quarrelled  worse !" 

"  You  don't  say  so !  Well,  I  never !  Do  walk 
back  with  me  and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

And  so  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  learned  for  the  first 
time  something  of  the  tragedy  which  had  but  a  few 
evenings  before  been  enacted  under  the  roof  of  the 
Abode  of  Peace. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

A    RAY    OF    LIGHT. 

Do  you  not  know  the  class  of  persons  who  grope  continually  after 
light  and  yet  seem  never  to  find  it  ? 

FROM  the  hour  that  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  had 
gathered  from  the  chief  cashier's  wife  something  of 
what  had  passed  concerning  the  desire  of  Mr.  Gor- 
man that  his  daughter  Rachel  should  marry  John 
Strode,  she  set  herself  with  great  assiduity  to  ferret 
out  all  that  there  was  to  be  learned  on  the  subject. 

"  William,"  she  remarked  to  her  good  husband,  as 
they  sat  at  their  usual  Sunday's  dinner  of  roast  beef 
and  Yorkshire  pudding,  "  from  what  I  hear  this 
morning,  Mr.  Gorman  is  in  trouble." 

"  In  trouble  ?     Why,  what's  amiss  with  him  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what,  William  ;  something  between 
young  John  Strode  and  Rachel  Gorman." 

"  And  enough,"  said  William  Biggs,  gently  patting 
a  neat  little  mound  of  mashed  potato  on  to  a  heap 
of  beef  and  pudding, — "  and  enough  to  make  such 
a  man  as  Mr.  Gorman  sit  down  and  give  up  trying 
any  more." 

"And  for  why?" 

"  Because  John  Strode  is  a  blackguard." 

ii  161 


162  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  But,  my  dear  William,  it  is  just  the  other  way 
about.  He  wants  her  to  marry  John  Strode,  and 
she  won't  look  at  him." 

Mr.  William  Biggs  was  deftly  preparing  another 
fork-load  for  transmission  to  his  mouth,  when  he 
stopped  and  gazed  at  his  wife  with  absolute  bewilder- 
ment. 

"  Jane,  my  dear,"  he  remarked,  after  staring  at  her 
for  a  minute  or  two,  "  you've  got  hold  of  the  wrong 
pig  by  the  ear." 

"  That's  the  story  as  it  was  told  to  me." 

"Rubbish!  Fiddle!  Blither!  Edward  Gorman 
has  got  over-much  sense  to  want  to  tie  his  girl  to 
one  of  that  breed.  Tell  me  another." 

"  I  only  tell  you  the  tale  as  it  was  told  to  me.  At 
all  events,  Mrs.  Gorman  is  laid  up  with  a  neuralgic 
headache,  which  may  mean  anything  or  nothing." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  he  said,  winking  his  eye  labori- 
ously. "  When  a  lady  has  been  titivating  the  colour 
of  her  hair  it  means  a  neuralgic  headache,  and  when 
she  has  got  a  hard  day's  mending  on,  that  means  a 
neuralgic  headache,  too.  Well " 

"  Well,  anyway,  Mrs.  Gorman  has  got  a  neuralgic 
headache,  and  not  one  of  the  girls  was  in  sanctuary, 
nor  Matthew,  nor  Mrs.  Matthew.  Rachel  is  staying 
at 'The  Larches.'" 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  shall  believe  that  tale  when  I 
have  better  evidence  than  your  word  for  it.  Not 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  163 

that  I  doubt  your  word,  Jane,  my  dear,  but  I  do 
doubt  them  that  told  you." 

"  Mrs.  Smith  told  me." 

"  Oh !     And  how  did  she  hear  of  it  ?" 

"  Well,  she  says  that  Mr.  Matthew  told  Smith, — 
told  him  all  about  it." 

"  That's  as  it  may  be.  I  see  a  good  more  of  Mr. 
Matthew  than  Smith,  and  he  never  said  a  word  to 
me.  All  I  say  is,  tell  me  another." 

"  Well,  I  shall  go  and  call  on  Mrs.  Matthew  to- 
morrow,— Monday  is  her  day, — and  see  if  I  can  hear 
anything." 

Accordingly,  on  the  following  day  Mrs.  Johnson- 
Biggs  arrayed  herself  in  her  best  attire  and  set  off  to 
pay  a  visit  to  young  Mrs.  Matthew  at  "The  Larches." 

She  found  the  outward  aspect  of  that  pretty  house 
much  the  same  as  usual.  Being  early  in  the  after- 
noon, nobody  else  had  arrived,  not  even  the  sisters 
of  its  master.  Mrs.  Matthew  received  her  in  the 
pretty  drawing-room  with  kind  words  of  welcome, 
and  promptly  rang  the  bell  to  order  tea  for  her 
special  benefit. 

"  Such  a  long  way  to  walk,"  she  said ;  "  I'm  sure 
you  must  be  quite  tired.  Now,  do  take  that  chair 
near  to  the  fire,  it  is  such  a  cosy  one.  Yes ;  isn't 
that  a  dear  kitten?  Matt  gave  it  to  me  the  other 
day.  I  believe  he  gave  a  fabulous  price  for  it, — 
between  ourselves, — but  he  doesn't  tell  me  that.  I 


1 64  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

have  heard  that  smoke-gray  Persians  cost  a  mint  of 
money." 

"  And  I,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs,  who  knew 
nothing  whatever  about  the  price  of  smoke-gray 
Persians,  or,  indeed,  of  any  other  fancy  cats.  "  But 
then,  you  know,  Mrs.  Matthew,  a  cat  of  any  out-of- 
the-way  kind  does  give  a  distinction  to  a  house." 

Flo  laughed  outright. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  it  does ;  but  that  was  not  why 
Matt  bought  it  for  me.  Ah,  here  is  the  tea.  Has  it 
stood  long  enough,  Gerrold  ?" 

"  Yes,  m'm ;  it  is  quite  ready,"  said  the  maid. 

"  You  take  cream,  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  ?  Yes  ? 
So  do  I.  And  now  I  want  you  to  try  this  cake ;  it  is 
extra  good.  We  made  it  at  home.  Oh,  no,  I  didn't 
make  it, — no,  cooking  isn't  my  forte ;  I  never  had  the 
chance  nor  the  time  to  learn  anything  of  cooking. 
But  still,  as  regards  this  cake,  I  saw  the  recipe  in  a 
lady's  paper,  and  the  cook  made  it.  I  am  so  anx- 
ious to  have  a  good  opinion  on  it.  It  cuts  nicely, 
doesn't  it  ?" 

Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs,  having  drawn  off  her  gloves, 
helped  herself  to  the  liberal  slice  of  cake  which  Mrs. 
Matthew  cut,  and  settled  herself  down  to  thoroughly 
enjoy  her  tea. 

"  You  were  not  at  sanctuary  yesterday  morning, 
Mrs.  Matthew  ?" 

"  No,  we  did  not  go." 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  165 

"  I  was  afraid  that  somebody  was  ill  at  first,"  said 
Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs. 

"  Were  you  ?     Why  ?" 

"  Because  not  one  of  the  family,  only  Mr.  Gorman, 
was  there." 

"  Ah,  well,  Mrs.  Gorman  was  not  very  well  yester- 
day; she  had  one  of  her  dreadful  headaches.  She 
does  suffer  from  them,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  that  she  does." 

At  that  minute  the  door  opened  and  Brooke  Barty 
was  shown  into  the  room.  To  Mrs.  Johnson- Biggs 
Brooke  Barty  was  a  new  and  unknown  quantity. 
She  had  never  seen  him  before,  and  his  name  was 
wholly  strange  to  her.  She  noticed — for  very  good 
people,  I  mean  people  who  profess  to  be  very  good, 
are  usually  extremely  quick  to  notice  the  expres- 
sion of  their  friends'  faces — she  noticed  that  Mrs. 
Matthew  flushed  up  and  greeted  him  with  unusual 
warmth. 

"  Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Barty  ?  So  pleased  to 
see  you.  You  are  nice  and  early  to-day." 

"  I  hope  I  am  not  too  early,"  said  Brooke  Barty, 
holding  her  hand, — the  hand,  mind  you,  of  the  woman 
who  was  protecting  the  girl  of  his  heart. 

"  You  are  never  too  early,"  said  Mrs.  Matthew, 
with  no  attempt  at  lowering  her  voice.  "  May  I  in- 
troduce you  to  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs?  Mr.  Brooke 
Barty." 


166  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

Mr.  Brooke  Barty  bowed  to  the  lady,  and  gave  an 
enquiring  glance  around  the  room. 

"  Presently,"  said  Flo,  "  presently." 

At  which  he  laughed,  turned  a  fine  rosy  red,  and 
Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  felt  herself  out  of  it. 

"  I  thought  as  much,"  her  thoughts  ran  on.  "  This 
is  what  comes  of  a  London  miss  coming  down  and 
snapping  up  one  of  our  best. young  men!" 

The  good  lady  forgot  that  the  London  miss  had 
not  come  down  to  Mullingham  until  she  had  done 
so  in  the  character  of  Matt  Gorman's  future  wife. 

Mrs.  Matt,  all  unconscious  of  the  perturbed 
thoughts  of  her  guest,  had  turned  to  the  newcomer. 

"You'll  have  a  cup  of  tea?  It's  quite  fresh.  Mrs. 
Johnson-Biggs  and  I  have  scarcely  tasted  our  first 
cups." 

"  Thank  you,  yes ;  I'd  like  a  cup  of  tea  very  much," 
he  replied. 

"  And  we've  got  a  new  cake,"  she  went  on.  "  Mrs. 
Johnson-Biggs,  you  never  told  me  whether  you  liked 
our  new  cake  or  not." 

"  It's  an  excellent  cake,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs. 

"  I'm  sure  it  is,"  said  Brooke  Barty,  "  if  this  is  it. 
You  didn't  make  it  ?" 

"  No,  I  didn't  make  it ;  I'm  not  clever  enough  to 
make  a  cake, — I'm  only  clever  enough  to  enjoy  other 
people's.  No,  our  cook  made  it.  I  fished  up  the 
receipt  out  of  Home  Notes,  or  the  Ladies'1  Treasury, 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  167 

or  one  of  those  magazines  that  I  pick  up  when  I  go 
into  Mullingham." 

And  then  the  door  opened  and  Rachel  came  in, 
— Rachel,  looking  more  like  a  wild  violet  than  ever, 
with  her  soft,  dusky  hair  piled  at  the  back  of  her 
neatly  shaped  head,  with  her  dewy  eyes  and  her 
roguish  dimpling  smiles.  And  Rachel  said,  "Oh, 
how  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  ?  I  hope  you 
are  quite  well;  and  your  husband,  is  he  all  right? 
How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Barty  ?  You  are  here  betimes 
to-day." 

Then  the  two  settled  down  somewhat  apart  and 
talked  to  each  other,  discussing  the  merits  of  the  tea 
and  the  new  cake,  the  receipt  for  which  Flo  had 
fished  out  of  Home  Chat,  or  the  Ladies'  Home,  or  the 
Babies'  Homet  or  some  useful  little  family  magazine 
of  that  order. 

To  give  Brooke  Barty  a  shade  more  of  a  chance, 
Flo  drew  her  chair  a  few  inches  nearer  to  that  of 
Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs. 

"  You  told  me  the  last  time  I  came  to  see  you," 
she  said,  in  her  most  confidential  tones,  "  that  you 
would  give  me  a  receipt  for  making  sponge-cakes. 
I  wonder  if  it  would  be  too  much  to  ask  you  to  write 
it  down  for  me  ?  I  do  so  love  home-made  sponge- 
cakes." 

"  No  trouble  at  all,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson- 
Biggs  ;  and  forthwith  qpening  her  card-case  she 


1 68  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

wrote  upon  the  little  memorandum  form  within  it 
that  she  should  not  forget  the  receipt  for  sponge- 
cakes for  Mrs.  Matthew  Gorman.  "  And  talking  of 
cakes,  Mrs.  Matthew,  I  heard  a  rumour  that  there 
would  be  another  kind  of  cake  wanted  before  long." 

Flo  blushed  a  vivid  crimson  hue. 

"Oh,  well,  perhaps.  Who  told  you  anything 
about  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  traditional  little  bird." 

"  Dear  me,  what  an  inconvenient  little  creature  it 
is !  But — but  it  won't  be  wanted  yet  awhile." 

Perhaps  Flo's  thoughts  were  running  on  one  kind 
of  cake  and  the  thoughts  of  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  were 
running  upon  another  kind ;  anyway,  that  lady 
dropped  a  small  bombshell  into  that  peaceful  draw- 
ing-room by  breathing  across  the  tea-cups,  "  My 
husband  says  Mr.  Gorman  will  never  consent  to  her 
marrying  John  Strode !" 

At  that  Flo  jumped, — jumped,  indeed,  with  such  a 
start  that  she  spilled  her  teaspoon  and  part  of  her 
wedge  of  cake  into  her  lap. 

"Oh,  how  you  startled  me!"  she  said.  "I — I 
didn't  know  you  meant  that." 

"  Isn't  it  true  ?" 

"True?  No,  there's  not  a  word  of  truth  in  it. 
She  wouldn't  look  at  him  !" 

"  Oh,  wouldn't  she  ?  Well,  I'm  glad  of  that.  My 
husband  was  saying  to  me  only  yesterday  at  dinner, 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  169 

you  know,  that  it  would  be  a  very  bad  day  for  her  if 
she  did,  and  that  Mr.  Gorman  would  not  consent  to 
it  for  a  moment." 

"  Mr.  Gorman  has  not  been  asked  to  consent  to  it," 
said  Mrs.  Matthew,  looking  very  straight  at  Mrs. 
Johnson-Biggs,  and  wondering  whether  she  was  not 
venturing  very  near  to  telling  a  lie  by  what  her  words 
implied.  "  Besides,  he  would  be  a  preposterous  hus- 
band for  her,  and  we  all  detest  him ;  he  is  a  horrid 
person !" 

"  Now,  if  it  was  this  one  ?"  said  Mrs.  Johnson- 
Biggs,  indicating  Brooke  Barty  with  a  lift  of  her  eye- 
brows. 

"  Hush— sh— sh !"  said  Flo.  "  Don't  breathe  it,— 
don't  speak  of  it.  By  and  by  you  will  see  what  you 
will  see." 

All  at  once  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs  came,  or  thought 
that  she  came,  to  an  entire  comprehension  of  the  sit- 
uation. Have  you  ever  noticed,  dear  reader,  what  a 
blissful  sensation  it  is  to  most  people  when  they  en- 
tirely comprehend  a  situation  which  hitherto  has 
been  a  little  incomprehensible  to  them  ?  It  is  like  a 
haven  of  rest  after  a  stormy  voyage.  And  after  a 
few  hours  upon  the  troublous  sea  of  conjecture,  on 
which  the  way  was  wholly  unknown  to  her,  it  was 
sweet  to  this  lady  to  find  herself  suddenly  landed  in 
the  harbour  of  complete  confidence  and  understand- 
ing. In  the  harbour,  did  I  say?  I  might  rather 


170  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

have  called  it  the  dry-dock  of  perfect  friendli- 
ness. 

Others  came  and  went,  but  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs 
and  Brooke  Barry  each  paid  what  might  be  called  a 
good,  long,  satisfying  visit.  And  when,  at  last,  the 
good  lady  was  compelled  to  tear  herself  away,  she 
took  both  Rachel's  hands  in  a  parting  which  was  in 
itself  a  benediction. 

"  Good-bye,  my  dear,  and  peace  be  with  you ; 
peace  of  every  kind  be  yours."  Then  to  Brooke 
Barty  she  extended  a  friendly  hand.  "  I  am  most 
pleased  to  have  met  you,  Mr.  Barty,"  she  said,  with 
emphatic  fervour.  "  My  dear  Mrs.  Matthew,  your 
house  is  so  delightful,  it  is  difficult  to  tear  oneself 
away  at  all." 

As  Brooke  Barty  closed  the  door  behind  her 
Rachel  and  Flo  looked  at  one  another.  After  the 
look  Rachel  tossed  her  head  up  in  the  air  and  turned 
to  the  fireplace.  Flo  twisted  the  rings  on  her  fingers. 

"  That  is "  she  began. 

"  You  needn't  tell  me,"  said  he,  quietly ;  "  I  know 
'em  so  well ;  we've  got  ever  so  many  of  'em  down  at 
the  Works ;  they  all  called  on  me,  and  I've  been  to 
tea  with  nearly  all  of  them.  You  needn't  explain  the 
lady !" 

And  then  they  all  three  burst  out  laughing,  and 
sat  down  again  as  merry  a  trio  as  ever  a  cloud  rested 
upon. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    LITTLE    BIRD. 

There  is  perhaps  nothing  in  this  world  so  stupid,  inaccurate,  and 
meddlesome  as  the  traditional  "  little  bird;"  the  harm  it  does  is  in- 
calculable ;  the  pain  it  causes  beyond  all  telling.  And  the  little  bird 
never  lacks  opportunities  for  doing  mischief. 

HAVING  passed  in  the  course  of  her  curiosity-search 
through  many  phases  of  mind,  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs 
betook  herself  away  from  "The  Larches"  in  the  direc- 
tion of  her  own  home.  She  had  reached  Matthew 
Gorman's  house  in  a  fever  of  excitement,  little  hoping 
that  she  would  soon  be  able  to  satisfy  herself  as  to 
the  true  state  of  affairs.  She  had  successfully  un- 
ravelled the  most  promising  mare's-nest  in  taking  for 
granted  that  Brooke  Barty  was  a  special  friend  of 
Mrs.  Matthew's,  who  made  a  point  of  visiting  her  at 
a  time  when  Matthew  was  safe  to  be  busily  employed 
at  the  Works.  This  mare's-nest  had  fallen  to  pieces 
almost  before  she  had  put  it  together,  and  she  had 
become  aware  of  the  very  promising  flirtation  which 
was  fast  ripening  into  a  love-affair  between  Brooke 
Barty  and  Rachel  Gorman.  She  felt  very  happy  as 
she  trudged  away  down  the  rather  muddy  road. 

She  felt  as  if  she  would  like  to  turn  in  at  the  big 

171 


172  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

gates  of  the  Abode  of  Peace  and  carry  to  Mrs.  Gor- 
man the  welcome  news  that  whatever  her  youngest 
girl  might  have  wished  in  the  way  of  a  sweetheart, 
she  was  not  breaking  her  heart  about  John  Strode 
at  that  moment.  In  the  warmth  of  her  overflowing 
friendliness,  she  felt  like  "just  popping  in,"  as  she 
would  herself  have  phrased  it,  and  saying, "  My  dear 
Mrs.  Gorman,  forgive  me.  The  little  bird  has  told 
me  that  there  has  been  some  sort  of  friction  in  your 
family  on  account  of  John  Strode.  Don't  worry 
yourself,  my  dear,  don't  worry  yourself;  she's  sit- 
ting up  there  at '  The  Larches,'  flirting  away  with  a 
young  man  called  Brooke  Barty  in  a  way  which 
would  do  your  mother's-heart  good  to  see."  Her 
feelings  so  far  carried  her  away  that  she  actually 
stopped  at  the  lodge  gates,  but  at  this  point  her 
courage  gave  way  somewhat  and  she  changed  her 
mind.  Well,  after  all,  it  was  getting  rather  late,  and 
William  would  be  home  and  he  would  want  his  tea, 
and  she  had  promised  Sarah  that  she  should  go  out  the 
minute  tea  was  done,  and  perhaps  it  would  be  just  as 
well  if  she  did  not  put  her  finger  into  that  particular 
pie.  So,  choking  down  her  friendly  desires,  she  set 
her  face  towards  home  and  resolutely  pushed  thereto. 
All  the  world  says  that  second  thoughts  are 
best,  and  undoubtedly  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs's  second 
thoughts  that  day  were  distinctly  better  than  her 
first  instincts,  both  for  herself  and  for  the  Gorman 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  173 

family.  I  have  never  found  from  my  own  experi- 
ence such  facts  which  will  lead  me  to  agree  with  the 
old  adage;  I  have  never  found  second  thoughts 
best, — quite  the  contrary.  But  still,  if  all  the  world 
says  a  thing,  there  must  be  something  in  it,  or  gen- 
eral experience  would  not  have  framed  the  saying. 
Alas  for  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs,  however,  she  that  day 
had  an  opportunity  for  third  and  fourth  thoughts, 
and  they  undid  her. 

As  I  said,  she  turned  her  steps  towards  home,  and 
hastened  thereto,  for  she  was  somewhat  late,  and  she 
had  both  William  and  Sarah  to  consider. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  very  late,  Sarah,"  she  remarked 
with  pleasing  trepidation  to  the  young  handmaiden 
who  gave  her  admittance. 

"  Oh,  no,  m'm,  only  a  few  minutes,"  was  the  cheer- 
ful reply.  "  Master  is  in,  m'm,  and  a  gentleman  with 
him." 

She  heard  voices  in  the  large,  warmly  lighted 
drawing-room,  and  went  in  there  instead  of  going 
straight  upstairs  to  her  bedroom  to  take  off  her  out- 
door garments.  To  her  surprise  Mr.  Gorman  was 
sitting  in  the  large  arm-chair  by  the  fire,  and  her 
husband  was  standing  with  his  elbow  on  the  chim- 
ney-piece talking  to  him.  t 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  as  she  pushed 
the  door  open,  "  I  can  rely  on  you,  William,  and  I 
need  give  no  more  thought  to  it." 


174  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"Not  the  least  in  the  world,  sir,"  said  William 
Biggs.  "  I  quite  understand  what  you  want,  and  I 
will  see  that  it  is  carried  through." 

"  And  you  think  I  am  wise,  William  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  think  you  are  very  wise.  I  always 
did  say  that  you  had  the  soundest  head  for  business 
I  ever  saw  in  my  life,  and  I  don't  see  any  need  now 
to  change  my  opinions." 

"  Oh,  here  is  your  wife !  How  do  you  do,  Mrs. 
Biggs?" 

"  Peace  be  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs, 
her  mind  and  her  heart  still  full  of  the  piece  of  news 
she  had  gleaned  up  at  "  The  Larches." 

Mr.  Gorman  sighed.  "Thank  you,  thank  you, 
Mrs.  Biggs,  thank  you,  and  peace  be  upon  you  also." 

"  You  don't  look  very  well,  Mr.  Gorman." 

"  I  daresay  not,  madam ;  I  have  not  been  very 
well." 

"  And  dear  Mrs.  Gorman,  is  she  better  ?  I  trust 
so." 

"  My  wife  is  not  at  all  well ;  she  suffers  continually 
with  her  head." 

"  Ah,  well,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs, "  bad  though 
it  is,  cruel  though  those  neuralgic  affections  always 
are,  there  is  one  comfort, — that  in  your  house  she  has 
peace." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  shortly,  "  I 
don't  know." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  175 

And  then,  second  thoughts  having  safely  carried 
her  over  one  peril,  third  thoughts  presented  them- 
selves to  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs,  and  landed  her — 
well,  the  story  will  show  later  on. 

"  I  did  hear,"  said  she,  preening  her  head  and 
sitting  down  very  carefully  on  an  adjacent  chair, 
while  she  looked  at  the  old  man  with  much  sweet- 
ness, which  was  entirely  thrown  away  upon  him,  "  I 
did  hear — a  little  bird  told  me — of  troubles  that  had 
come  into  a  certain  family  very  near  and  dear  to  us." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  in  somewhat  chilly 
tones. 

"  I  heard  that  everything  was  not  going  on  as 
peaceably,  as  smoothly,  as  is  wont  to  be.  Dear  Mr. 
Gorman/'  she  said,  edging  a  little  nearer,  and  allow- 
ing herself  to  go  off  into  a  little  gush  of  feeling, 
"  there  is  no  need  for  anxiety  at  all ;  it  will  be  all 
right  in  the  end." 

"  I  don't  think  I  quite  understand  you,"  said  Mr. 
Gorman. 

"Girls  will  be  girls,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs, 
laying  her  hand  affectionately  upon  his  arm,  "and 
your  Rachel  is  very  pretty." 

It  was  the  first  time  in  her  life  that  she  had  ever 
presumed  to  speak  of  one  of  Mr.  Gorman's  daugh- 
ters without  the  prefix  to  her  name. 

"  My  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  "  will,  if  she 
chooses  to  make  her  own  bed,  lie  upon  it  She 


176  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

knows  my  wishes,  and  it  is  a  subject  that  I — it  pains 
me — I  would  rather  not  discuss  it." 

"  Discuss  it !  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Gorman ;  is  it  likely 
that  I  should  wish  to  do  so  ?  But  I  thought  that 
when  I  had  good  news  to  tell  you,  that  it  was  at 
once  my  pleasure  and  my  duty  not  to  keep  it  from 
you." 

"  Good  news  ?"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  bending  his 
shaggy  eyebrows  upon  the  lady. 

"  I  have  just  seen  her,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs, 
clasping  her  hands  together,  "  looking  so  pretty,  and 
sweet,  and  charming,  and  occupied  in  a  way  that 
showed  that  she  was  not  at  all  inclined  to  go  to 
extremes  in  forbidden  directions." 

"  Speak  more  plainly,  I  beg  of  you,"  said  Mr. 
Gorman. 

"To  speak  more  plainly,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson- 
Biggs,  "  is  just  to  say  that  I  think  one  Mr.  Brooke 
Barty  will,  before  long,  be  paying  you  a  little  visit — 
a  visit  of  request — you  understand  me  ?" 

"  Perfectly,  madam,  and  I  thank  you  for  the  in- 
formation. And  now,"  with  fine  courtesy  extending 
his  hand  from  his  heart  to  the  lady,  "  I  will  bid  you 
good-bye.  William,  my  old  friend,  good-bye  to  you, 
and  peace  be  with  you." 

"  There,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs,  when  the  door 
had  closed  behind  him,  "  I've  set  his  poor  old  heart 
at  rest.  Dear,  dear,  to  think  that  a  beautiful  girl 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  177 

like  that  should  ever  set  her  heart  on  a  creature  like 
John  Strode,  even  if  she  was  only  playing  at  it !" 

Meanwhile,  it  must  be  confessed  that  Mr.  Gorman 
had  gone  down  the  road  in  a  tearing  passion.  Not 
one  word,  however,  did  he  say  on  the  subject  when 
he  reached  the  Abode  of  Peace.  Mrs.  Gorman, 
looking  very  white  and  shattered,  made  an  effort  to 
appear  at  dinner,  but  spent  the  rest  of  the  evening 
in  motionless  silence  in  her  accustomed  place  in  the 
drawing-room.  Mr.  Gorman  retired  to  the  library, 
where  he  paced  restlessly  to  and  fro,  thinking  hard. 
He  took  out  the  miniature  again  that  night,  and 
confided  most  of  his  troubles  thereto,  and  he  wrote 
a  letter  to  his  lawyers,  and  sat  for  a  long  time  in 
the  big  chair  before  the  table  thinking.  And  I  am 
bound,  as  a  faithful  chronicler,  to  say  that  of  peace 
in  his  heart  there  was  none. 

The  following  morning,  as  soon  as  he  reached  the 
Works,  he  enquired  for  his  son,  and  was  told  that 
he  had  been  there  for  about  half  an  hour,  and  was 
busy  in  his  own  office. 

"  Say  to  Mr.  Matthew,"  was  his  command,  "  that 
I  wish  to  speak  to  him  at  his  earliest  convenience." 

Accordingly,  Matthew,  a  few  minutes  later,  tapped 
at  the  door  of  his  father's  sanctum. 

"  Good-morning,  sir.  You  sent  for  me  ?"  he  re- 
marked. 

Mr.  Gorman  looked  up. 

12 


178  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  Yes,  I  sent  for  you.  Good-morning,  Matthew." 
He  moved  one  or  two  papers  in  an  abstracted  kind 
of  way,  took  out  his  handkerchief  from  his  breast- 
pocket, shook  out  the  snowy  folds  and  deposited  it 
in  a  heap  on  the  table  at  his  left  hand.  "  I — I — 
I  wanted  to  speak  to  you,"  he  said. 

Matthew  shut  the  door,  crossed  the  room,  and 
took  the  chair  opposite  to  his  father's. 

"  Well,  sir  ?"  he  said,  in  an  enquiring  tone.  "  I 
am  at  your  service." 

Mr.  Gorman  continued  to  fidget  about  among  the 
papers  on  the  table. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said,  without  looking  at  Mat- 
thew, "  that  the  young  man  Brooke  Barty  is  a 
frequent  visitor  at  your  house." 

"  Yes,"  said  Matthew,  "  he  is,  fairly  so." 

"And  I  am  also  informed,"  Mr.  Gorman  went  on, 
"  that  some  sort  of  an  affair  is  brewing  between  him 
and  your  sister  Rachel." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Matthew,  folding 
his  arms  and  leaning  back  in  his  chair.  "  They're 
on  very  friendly  terms,  certainly." 

"  I  am  informed,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  "  that  they 
are  on  more  than  friendly  terms." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  don't  know  who  your  informant  is," 
said  Matthew,  "but  I  have  seen  nothing  between 
them  but  such  friendship  as  there  might  be  between 
any  young  man  and  young  woman." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  179 

"  Has  he  proposed  to  her  ?" 

"  I  cannot  say ;  not  to  my  knowledge." 

"  But  he  is  likely  to  do  so  ?" 

"  There  you  go  beyond  me,  sir.  It  will  be  a  very 
good  thing  for  Rachel  if  he  does." 

"  You  think  so  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  do  think  so ;  I  am  sure  of  it.  Mr. 
Barty  is  young  and  well-to-do,  his  looks  are  every- 
thing that  can  be  desired,  he  is  well-born  and  well- 
bred,  and  straight,  and  wholesome,  a  gentleman  in 
every  sense  of  the  word.  My  sister  will  be  a  lucky 
girl  if  he  does  ask  her  to  marry  him." 

"  And,  thinking  that,  you  will  put  no  obstacles  in 
his  way  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  shall  put  no  obstacles  in  his  way,  or 
in  the  way  of  any  honest  and  reputable  man  who 
wished  to  marry  my  sister,  if  she  wishes  to  marry 
him." 

"  Very  good.  Then  my  informant  was  not 
wrong." 

"  I  don't  know,  of  course,  who  your  informant 
was, — a  busybody  and  a  tale-bearer." 

"  My  informant  is  a  very  good  woman,  with  no 
idea  of  tale-bearing  or  mischief-making,"  said  Mr. 
Gorman,  suddenly  turning  his  great  bright  eyes 
upon  his  son.  "  My  informant  did  not  tell  me  this 
bit  of  news  as  a  piece  of  gossip,  by  no  means,  but, 
having  heard  a  mistaken  story  of  the  troubles  in  our 


1 8o  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

family,  she  told  me  by  way  of  being  a  comfort  to 
me, — a  comfort,  save  the  mark !" 

"Oh,  it  was  a  lady,"  said  Matt,  very  care- 
lessly. 

"  Yes,  it  was  a  lady." 

"  Well,  sir,  of  course  you  must  be  a  law  unto  your- 
self, as  we  all  must;  but  I  can  hardly  understand 
that,  having  turned  your  daughter  out  of  your  house 
and  practically  washed  your  hands  of  her,  you  could 
condescend  to  listen  to  gossip  about  her  from  out- 
siders. Of  course  we  all  have  our  own  ideas  of 
what  is  right  and  wrong,  and  fitting  and  unfitting ; 
but  I  am  a  little  surprised,  that  is  all.  Have  you 
anything  more  to  ask  me  ?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  How  is  my  mother  ?" 

"  She  is  not  very  well." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that.  I  will  go  in  and  see  her  on 
my  way  back.  Then  you  require  nothing  more  of 
me  just  now,  sir?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  Very  good.     Good-morning,  sir." 

And  Matthew  went  away,  leaving  the  old  gentle- 
man sitting  in  a  blaze  of  speechless  passion  by  him- 
self. 

Of  course,  when  Matthew  Gorman  went  home  to 
lunch,  he  told  his  wife  and  sister  what  had  transpired 
between  himself  and  his  father. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  181 

"That  was  Mrs.  Johnson- Biggs.  I  always  said 
that  she  was  an  ill-natured  cat !"  cried  Rachel. 

"  Nobody  else  came,  excepting  Mr.  Barty.  Oh, 
yes,  they  did ;  but  nobody  else  connected  with  the 
Works,  I  mean,"  added  Flo. 

"  Besides,"  Rachel  went  on,  "  there  is  nothing  in 
it.  He  doesn't  care  anything  about  me." 

"  Oh,  no,  of  course  not,"  said  Matt,  promptly. 

"  Did  you  tell  father  so  ?" 

"  I  told  him  that,  so  far  as  I  knew,  there  was 
nothing  in  it ;  and  that,  as  far  as  I  was  concerned,  I 
should  be  very  pleased  if  there  was  anything  in  it." 

"  You  shouldn't  have  said  that,  Matt ;  your  being 
pleased  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I — I — I  haven't 
said  that  I  should  be  very  pleased  if — if  Mr.  Barty 
.  .  ."  Then  she  made  a  dive  for  her  handkerchief, 
and  burst  out  crying,  with  her  elbows  on  the  table 
and  her  handkerchief  up  to  her  eyes. 

"Well,  my  dear  girl,  I  didn't  say  anything  that 
could  commit  you  in  any  way,  or  that  could  commit 
anybody  but  myself.  I  was  obliged  to  say  some- 
thing; and,  after  all,  the  whole  conversation  was 
sprung  upon  me.  Little  thought  I,  when  I  was 
sitting  quietly  doing  my  letters,  that  my  father  was 
going  to  spring  this  bombshell  upon  me.  I  was  so 
taken  aback,  I  had  nothing  else  to  say.  I  thought 
we  had  kept  our  doings  here  dark  enough  from 
everybody." 


1 82  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  Oh,  it  doesn't  matter,"  cried  Rachel,  "  it  doesn't 
matter  a  bit.  Only  I'm  so — so  afraid — he'll  go  and 
say  something  to  Mr.  Barty;  and,  if  he  does,  I  shall 
die  of  shame ;  because  he  has  never  hinted — he  has 
never  hinted — that — that — he  cared  twopence  for 
me." 

"  I  wouldn't  upset  myself  over  that,"  said  Matt ; 
"  because  the  governor  isn't  at  all  likely  to  give  me 
away  by  writing  to  Barty,  or  saying  anything  to  him 
about  it.  He'd  be  too  much  afraid  of  helping  it  on,  my 
dear.  And,  besides,  as  to  not  saying  anything " 

But  at  this  point  a  vigorous  nudge  from  Flo 
caused  him  to  stop  short  and  finish  his  sentence  in  a 
wholly  different  manner  from  what  he  had  intended. 

"  I  say,"  he  said  afterwards  to  his  wife,  "  what  did 
you  mean, — why  did  you  try  to  tweak  a  piece  out 
of  my  sleeve  when  Rachel  was  crying  ?" 

"  Why,  I  didn't  want  you  to  tell  her  that  Brooke 
Barty  had  hinted  to  you  about  it.  She's  in  that 
frame  of  mind,  she'd  be  saying  '  No'  and  all  sorts  of 
things.  She  might  even  say '  Yes'  to  the  other  man." 

"  To  Strode  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Nonsense !  she's  not  such  a  fool  as  that ;  don't 
think  it." 

"  Well,  perhaps  she  isn't ;  but  you  let  well  alone, 
and  don't  you  let  on  that  Mr.  Barty  has  ever  said  a 
word  to  you.  He  wouldn't  like  it,  and  she  wouldn't 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  183 

like  it,  and  you  may  depend  upon  it  that  I  know 
what  I  am  talking  about." 

"Oh,  you  know  what  you're  talking  about, — of 
course  you  do.  But  it  seems  to  me  a  pity  that  a  girl 
should  be  fretting  her  heart  out  and  not  knowing 
what  a  man  may  be  thinking  of  her ;  it  seems  a  pity, 
when  a  word  or  two  would  set  everything  straight 
between  them." 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  know ;  but  the  word  or  two  must 
come  from  them,  from  one  to  the  other,  don't  you 
see,  not  from  you.  When  a  situation  is  so  strained, 
a  word  or  two  from  the  wrong  person  might  do  all 
the  harm  in  the  world.  Let  them  bring  things  about 
between  themselves  in  a  natural  way;  it  will  be  much 
better  so.  As  for  your  father,  I  cannot  understand 
him,"  she  went  on,  reflectively.  "  He  seems  sensible 
enough  on  most  points, — on  most  points,  Matt." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he's  sensible  enough,  but  perverse." 

"But  there's  no  reason  why  he  should  be  per- 
verse ?" 

"  No  reason  that  we  know  of,  that's  true." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Matt,"  she  said :  "  I'll 
run  in  and  see  the  mother  this  afternoon,  and  hear 
whether  there  is  any  news  at  the  Abode.  Perhaps  I 
shall  be  stopped  going  there,  who  knows  !" 

"  Nonsense !"  was  Matt's  contemptuous  rejoinder. 
"  What  ideas  you  do  get  into  your  head,  little 
woman !" 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

PLAIN   SPEAKING. 

You  know  the  old  saying  that  the  cobbler's  wife  goes  the  worst 
shod  ?  How  often  do  we  find  in  the  lives  of  those  who  profess  any 
particular  line  very  warmly  the  utter  absence  of  the  very  quality 
which  is  the  base  of  their  professions ! 

ACCORDINGLY,  later  in  the  afternoon,  Mrs.  Matthew 
took  the  opportunity  of  paying  a  visit  to  the  Abode 
of  Peace.  She  found  Mrs.  Gorman  somewhat  better 
as  regarded  her  general  state,  eager  and  anxious  for 
news  of  Rachel,  but  with  evidently  no  knowledge 
whatever  of  the  information  which  had  reached  Mr. 
Gorman's  ears  the  previous  day. 

"  I  have  felt  so  very  unwell,"  she  said,  half  apolo- 
getically to  Flo,  "  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  come 
up  and  see  you,  my  dear.  As  soon  as  I  am  out 
again  I  intend  to  do  so.  Oh,  yes,  I  am  not  going 
to  give  way  and  be  ill  altogether.  It  is  only  that 
things  have  been  a  little  too  much  for  me  latterly. 
You  understand,  my  dear,  don't  you  ?  You  are  sure 
that  Rachel  is  not  fretting, — that  she  is  well  and 
happy.  It  seems  so  strange,  and  it  must  seem  very 
strange  to  you,  dear  Flo,  that  one  of  my  children 
should  be  an  exile  from  home.  But  I  am  praying 
184 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  185 

and  hoping  that  it  will  pass,  that  after  a  time  her 
father  will  realize  that  she  does  know  her  own  mind, 
and  that  she  must  be  let  to  take  her  own  way  in  such 
a  matter  as  this." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  so  ;  I  think  that  it  will  turn  out  so, 
dear  mother,"  said  Flo,  gently.  "  By  the  bye,  did 
you  have  any  visitors  yesterday  ?" 

"  Yesterday  ?  I  think  not — no.  No,  I  was  pros- 
trated all  day  yesterday  with  my  head,  and  the  girls 
were  out.  They  came  to  see  you,  did  they  not  ?" 

"  Yes,  Matty  came.  She  said  Polly  and  Beth  had 
gone  into  the  town  for  something." 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  remember.  No,  I  saw  nobody  yester- 
day; there  were  no  visitors  here  at  all." 

Evidently  Mrs.  Gorman  knew  nothing  about  the 
rumour  of  the  little  bird,  and,  after  sitting  awhile 
longer,  Mrs.  Matthew  left  her  with  a  very  tender 
leave-taking. 

On  her  way  through  the  hall,  however,  she  ran 
against  her  father-in-law. 

"  Ah,  it  is  you,"  he  said.     "  Peace  be  with  you." 

"  And  with  you  also,"  said  Flo. 

She  felt  rather  a  hypocrite  as  the  words  passed 
her  lips,  for  she  well  knew  that  in  that  house  there 
was  no  peace. 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  met  you,  Flo,"  said  Mr.  Gor- 
man ;  "  I  wanted  to  see  you.  Come  into  the  library 
with  me,  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question." 


186  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Gorman." 

She  followed  him  into  the  library,  feeling  as  a 
young  warrior  might  feel  when  he  first  goes  into 
battle.  She  was  very  smartly  and  daintily  dressed 
in  a  costume  of  brown  cloth  with  a  good  deal  of 
sable  about  it,  and  she  held  her  hands  very  tightly 
twined  together  in  the  shelter  of  her  sable  muff  as 
she  followed  the  old  man  into  the  great  dimly-lighted 
library.  He  closed  the  door  behind  her  and  turned 
up  the  electric  light,  then  walked  across  to  the  great 
fireplace,  whither  she  followed  him. 

"  Flo,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question. 
Are  you  acting  loyally  by  me  ?" 

She  looked  straight  at  him  with  her  clear,  honest 
eyes. 

"  That  depends,  Mr.  Gorman,  upon  what  you  call 
loyalty.  If  you  mean  am  I  doing  my  duty  as  your 
son's  wife,  giving  him  my  love,  my  thought,  my  care, 
— yes ;  I  can  unhesitatingly  answer,  yes." 

"  I  do  not  mean  in  that  way  at  all,"  he  said,  shortly. 
There  was  a  moment's  pause;  then  he  opened  his 
mouth  with  a  sort  of  click,  and,  turning  once  more 
towards  her,  brought  his  hand  down  heavily  upon 
her  shoulder.  "Are  you  aiding  and  abetting  my 
daughter  in  her  rebellion  against  me  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Flo,  "  I  am." 

"  You  do  not  know  my  motives  for  wishing  her  to 
marry  this  man." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  187 

"  I  don't  want  to  know  them,  Mr.  Gorman.  The 
man  is  odious ;  he  is  not  fit  for  a  girl  to  marry, — for 
that  girl  to  marry.  She  does  not  love  him;  she 
does  not  even  like  him,  or  respect  him,  or  admire 
him.  I  should  consider  it  a  sin  if  I  were  to  be  what 
you  consider  loyal  in  such  a  matter." 

"  I  have  a  reason,"  he  said,  slowly. 

"  I  don't  doubt  it.  I  should  be  sorry  to  think  that 
you  could  wish  her  to  marry  anybody  without  a 
reason." 

"  I  have  a  good  reason." 

"  I  don't  think  so." 

"  I  know  that  I  have.     I  have  promised  her." 

"  Yes ;  but  you  have  promised  what  is  not  yours 
to  give." 

"  She  is  my  daughter." 

"  Yes,  true ;  but  not  to  give  in  that  way." 

"  At  all  events,  if  you  cannot  help  me  as  you  might 
do  to  bring  her  to  a  more  sensible  and  dutiful  frame 
of  mind " 

"  That  I  cannot  do,"  said  Flo. 

"  No,  I  accept  your  decision  in  that  respect ;  I  do 
not  any  longer  ask  for  it ;  but  you  can  do  something 
else  for  me, — you  can  aid  me  in  another  way." 

"  In  what  way,  Mr.  Gorman  ?"  asked  Flo. 

"  You  can  at  least  promise  me  that  you  will  not 
place  any  serious  obstacles  in  the  way  of  Rachel's 
one  day  coming  round  to  my  way  of  thinking." 


i88  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

She  stood  eying  him  apprehensively.  "  You 
mean " 

"  I  mean  that  so  long  as  there  is  a  fair  field " 

"  For  John  Strode  ?" 

"  For  John  Strode." 

"  You  mean  that  I  am  not  to  ask,  that  Matthew  is 
not  to  ask,  any  other  man  who  might  wish  to  marry 
Rachel  to  our  house.  That  is  impossible,  Mr.  Gor- 
man. I  neither  could  nor  would  dictate  to  my  hus- 
band whom  he  should  invite  under  his  own  roof. 
You  would  not  expect  Mrs.  Gorman  to  do  so  here." 

"  You  might  at  least  discourage "  he  suggested. 

"  Mr.  Gorman,"  said  she,  speaking  very  quietly, 
and  yet  with  a  flash  in  her  eyes  such  as  warned  him 
that  he  was  treading  on  dangerous  ground,  "  I  don't 
like  to  say  what  is  in  my  mind." 

"  I  beg  that  you  will." 

"  Would  you  counsel  me  seriously  to  go  against 
my  husband  in  the  spirit  while  keeping  with  him  in 
the  letter  ?" 

"  You  take  too  literal  a  view,"  he  said,  with  a  flour- 
ish of  his  hand  which  might  convey  little  or  much. 

"  I  don't  think  that  one  can  take  too  literal  a  view 
of  such  a  matter,"  said  Flo. 

"  Tell  me— this  fellow  Barty " 

"  I  can  tell  you  nothing  about  Mr.  Barty  except 
what  you  already  know." 

"  But  he — he  comes  to  you  ?" 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  189 


"  Yes,  he  comes  to  us." 
"  And  he  and  Rachel — 


"  I  can  tell  you  nothing,"  said  Mrs.  Matthew,  very 
sharply. 

"  Remember,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  have  sworn 
that  she  shall  marry  John  Strode." 

"  I  am  not  likely  to  forget  it ;  I  wish  that  I  could," 
said  the  girl,  with  spirit.  "  And  if  that  is  all  that 
you  have  to  say  to  me,  Mr.  Gorman,  I  will  bid  you 
good-day,  because  it  is  time  that  I  was  getting  home. 
Matthew  will  be  anxious  about  me.  Good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said,  "  and  the  Lord's  peace  be 
with  you." 

"  Mr.  Gorman,"  said  Flo,  "  it  is  easy  to  send  peace 
with  me,  but  not  while  you  are  determined  to  marry 
Rachel  to  John  Strode." 

Mr.  Gorman  turned  away  to  the  fire. 

"  We  will  discuss  the  subject  no  further,  if  you 
please." 

"  Very  well.     Good-night,  Mr.  Gorman,"  said  Flo. 

She  went  quickly  out  of  the  handsome  library, 
hurrying  across  the  spacious  hall,  and  out  of  the 
house.  In  truth,  she  did  not  want  Mrs.  Gorman  or 
any  of  the  girls  to  know  that  her  father-in-law  had 
had  any  private  conversation  with  her.  Her  state  of 
mind  was  not  a  little  mixed  as  she  hurried  along  the 
well-kept  avenue.  Relief  that  she  had  spoken  her 
mind  to  her  father-in-law  was  mingled  with  a  fervent 


i9o  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

hope  that  she  had  not  done  or  said  anything  which 
would  make  the  situation  more  strained  for  the  entire 
family.  Then  there  was  also  a  good  deal  of  an  even 
warmer  feeling,  a  feeling  of  disgust,  and  a  sense  of 
shocked  pain  that  he,  professing  so  much  and  think- 
ing so  much  of  the  religious  side  of  life,  could  de- 
liberately have  asked  her,  a  young  wife,  little  more 
than  a  bride,  a  wife  whom  he  knew  to  be  beholden 
to  her  husband  for  everything  that  made  existence 
fair  and  lovely  to  her,  to  go  against  him, — to  be  with 
him  in  the  letter  and  to  turn  her  hand  against  him  in 
the  spirit. 

The  lodge-keeper  ran  out  as  she  heard  her  foot- 
steps approaching  the  gates. 

"  Good-night,  Mrs.  Jones,"  said  Flo,  coming  back 
to  everyday  life  with  a  start,  and  speaking  with  her 
accustomed  bright  and  pleasant  manner. 

"  Good-night,  Mrs.  Matthew.  Peace  be  with  you," 
said  the  woman  in  reply. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Flo.  And  then,  as  she  was 
about  to  pass  through  the  gate,  she  turned  and  looked 
at  the  woman  standing  in  the  warm  shaft  of  light  cast 
through  the  open  door  of  the  lodge.  "  Mrs.  Jones," 
she  said,  "  I  don't  know  that  there  is  much  peace  in 
this  world.  I  hope  that  it  lives  and  rests  with  you." 

The  woman,  who  was  comely  and  simple-looking, 
stared  at  the  young  lady  for  a  moment,  and  then  her 
face  changed. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  191 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Matthew,"  she  said,  "  I  have  my  rubs, 
like  other  people,  but  it's  best  to  say  nothing  and  to 
put  a  good  face  on  it." 

"  You  can't  always  put  a  good  face  on  it,"  said  Flo. 

The  woman  heaved  a  quick  sigh.  "  Eh,  ma'am, 
but  it's  early  days  for  you  to  have  found  it  out !" 
She  spoke  involuntarily,  as  one  woman  to  another, 
not  from  the  position  of  the  lodge-keeper's  wife  to 
the  daughter-in-law  of  the  head  of  the  house.  Then, 
with  almost  a  cry,  she  tried  to  draw  back.  "  I 
oughtn't  to  have  said  that !"  she  exclaimed. 

Flo  put  a  hand  out  and  touched  her  on  the  shoul- 
der. "  Nay,"  she  said,  "  I  have  not  found  what  you 
thought.  My  life,  so  far,  is  most  happy  and  blessed ; 
I  see  no  sign  of  its  being  otherwise.  But  I  don't 
find  peace  in  all  the  world,  Mrs.  Jones.  Don't  think 
anything  of  what  I  said ;  Mrs.  Gorman  is  not  very 
well  to-night, — suffering  terribly  with  her  head ;  it 
has  made  me  sad  going  in  to  see  her.  She  will  be 
better  to-morrow.  Don't  think  that  I  said  anything 
to  seem  dissatisfied ;  I  am  the  happiest  woman  in  the 
world." 

In  her  jacket  pocket  she  had  a  loose  half-crown, 
and  she  slipped  it  into  the  woman's  hand,  gently 
closing  her  fingers  over  it,  and  fairly  ran  into  the 
road.  And  there  she  cannoned  against  her  husband. 

"  Oh,  how  you  frightened  me !"  she  cried. 

"  My  dear  child !     You  shot  against  me  as  if  you 


i92  THE  PEACEMAKERS. 

had  been  shot  out  of  a  catapult !  Did  they  turn  you 
out  ?  What  is  the  matter  ?  What  has  happened  ? 
Has  it  got  to  that  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  Matt.  I  was  talking  to  the  woman  at 
the  gate.  I  was  hurrying, — I  was  late." 

He  drew  her  forward  to  where  an  electric  light 
illumined  the  road.  It  was  one  of  Mr.  Gorman's  fads 
that  his  house  and  its  grounds,  and,  indeed,  I  might 
almost  say  the  boundaries  thereof,  should  be  well 
lighted.  "  Something  has  happened,"  he  said,  look- 
ing at  her  searchingly;  "you  are  fairly  knocked 
over.  What  is  it  ?" 

"  Nothing — nothing.  Well,  perhaps  I  shouldn't 
say  that.  Well,  Matt,  I'll  tell  you."  And  then  she 
slipped  her  hand  under  his  arm  as  they  turned  to- 
wards their  own  home.  "  I'll  tell  you  as  we  go 
along,"  she  said.  "  I  suppose,  if  I  was  wise,"  she 
continued,  when  she  got  to  the  end  of  her  story,  "  I 
suppose  I  shouldn't  tell  you  that  your  father  had 
tried  to  influence  me  to  work  against  your  wishes ; 
but  I've  never  had  a  secret  from  you,  and  I  don't 
like  to  begin,  even  although  it's  something  about 
your  own  people." 

"  Besides,"  he  rejoined,  "  it  is  my  right  to  know  it. 
No  man  could  have  a  more  insidious  enemy  than  his 
own  father.  I  mean,  if  one's  father  determined  to 
work  against  one,  there  is  nobody  else  who  has  such 
a  chance  of  doing  one  harm.  Little  woman,  I  tell 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  193 

you  frankly  that  I  don't  know  what  it  all  means, — I 
can't  tell  you  what  it  all  means.  There  is  something 
that  none  of  us  know  of  or  understand.  Nothing 
would  make  me  believe  that  for  sheer  love  and  ad- 
miration of  himself  my  father  wishes  Rachel  to 
marry  John  Strode.  That  is  beyond  the  bounds  of 
possibility.  John  Strode  may  have  a  hold  over  my 
father,  although,  mind  you,  three  months  ago  I 
should  have  said  that  it  was  absolutely  impossible 
that  such  a  thing  could  be.  We  may  get  to  the 
bottom  of  it  one  day,  and  we  may  not.  Meantime, 
our  course  is  perfectly  clear  and  plain, — to  keep  out 
of  the  quarrel  if  we  can, — for  I  hate  quarrels ;  they're 
unseemly,  and  they're  something  worse  when  they 
come  between  father  and  son.  But  we  must  go  on 
our  own  line  as  completely  and  entirely  as  if  we  had 
nobody  but  ourselves  to  consider.  I'm  very  glad 
that  you  spoke  your  mind  to  him,  because  it  will 
make  your  path  so  much  easier  and  so  much  clearer 
in  the  future." 

"  And  you  won't  tell  him  that  I  told  you  about  it." 

"  No,  not  unless  it  should  be  absolutely  necessary." 

She  walked  along  silently  for  a  little  distance,  still 

clinging  tightly  to  his  arm.     "  Dear  boy,"  she  said 

at  last,  "  what  is  it  that  is  eating  your  mother's  heart 

out  ?" 

"  My  mother  ?     Oh,  she  is  upset,  and  ill,  and  wor- 
ried by  all  this — this  miserable  affair.    She  has  never 

13 


194  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

gone  against  my  father;  it  is,  as  she  said  the  other 
night,  the  habit  of  her  life  to  side  with  him,  and  it 
has  become  so  thorough  and  so  fixed  a  habit  that 
when  she  wants  to  go  against  him  she  cannot  bring 
herself  to  do  it." 

"  Matt,"  said  the  girl,  gently,  "  do  you  know,  I  be- 
gin to  see  that  it  is  true,  that  old  saying,  '  On-lookers 
see  most  of  the  game.'  Has  it  never  occurred  to  you 
that  your  mother's  heart  is  breaking  ?  that  her  heart 
was  slowly  breaking  when  I  first  came  down  here 
to  Mullingham  before  we  were  married  ?" 

"  No.     What  makes  you  think  so  ?" 

"  What  ?  Everything.  Your  mother  is  not,  with 
the  exception  of  being  knocked  over  as  she  is  just 
now,  a  very  delicate  woman." 

"  Oh,  no." 

"  And  yet  she  has  the  air  of  constant  suffering ; 
such  a  strange,  bleached,  pained  air  of  suffering,  the 
air  of  bearing  something.  I  saw  it  before  I  had  been 
in  the  house  ten  minutes ;  I  have  seen  it  ever  since. 
I  suppose  you  are  all  so  used  to  it  that  you  look  on 
it  as  part  of  her ;  but  it  is  unnatural  for  a  woman  of 
her  age,  who  has  even  tolerable  health,  to  look  as 
she  looks.  Have  you  never  seen  her  face  light  up, 
her  lips  part,  as  if  she  was  going  to  say  something, — 
something  eager,  something  from  her  very  heart, — 
and  then  seen  her  draw  back,  take  a  deep  breath, 
and  choke  it  down,  as  if — as  if  she  would  bear  the 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  195 

pain  a  little  longer?  Have  you  never  noticed 
that  ?" 

"No." 

"  Ah !  Then  it  is  as  I  say,  on-lookers  see  most 
of  the  game.  And,  Matt,  although  your  sisters  are 
fond  of  saying  that  there  is  only  one  real  Peace- 
maker in  all  the  house,  and  that  is  your  mother,  I 
tell  you — and  I  know  that  I  am  right — that  there 
never  was  any  woman  further  from  peace  of  any 
kind  than  she  is." 

They  reached  the  gate  of  "  The  Larches"  as  she 
ceased  speaking,  and  Matt  stood  there  looking  at  her 
by  the  flickering  light  of  the  gas-lamp  above  it. 

"  It  may  be  that  you  are  right,"  he  said.  "  For  my 
part,  as  I  told  you  before  we  were  married,  I  never 
took  much  interest  in  Peacemaking,  or  in  any  of  the 
show ;  I  conformed  to  it  outwardly  purely  to  please 
my  father  and  mother.  I  remember  then  that  you 
asked  me  how  it  worked.  It  might  work,  but  it 
doesn't.  And  if  my  mother  is  as  unhappy  as  you 
think,  I  verily  believe  it  is  the  damned  Peacemaking 
that  is  at  the  bottom  of  it  all." 

And  then  he  opened  the  gate  and  held  it  for  her 
to  pass  in. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THOUGHTS. 

There  are  no  thoughts  so  bitter  as  those  that  go  back  over  the 
past,  holding  the  events  of  one's  life  in  review  and  contrasting  the 
present  as  it  is  with  the  present  as  it  might  have  been  if  we  had  acted 
differently. 

"  MATT,"  said  Flo,  to  her  husband,  opening  the 
door  of  his  dressing-room  that  evening,  "  you  won't 
breathe  a  word  to  Mr.  Barty  of  what  happened  to- 
day, will  you  ?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  want  to  throw  my  sister  at  any  fel- 
low's head,"  he  replied,  diplomatically. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Brooke  Barty  was  dining  that 
night  at  "  The  Larches."  I  have  said  that  he  went 
pretty  often  to  Matt  Gorman's  house.  Under  ordi- 
nary circumstances  it  is  more  than  likely  that  the 
all-important  question  would  have  been  put  to  Rachel 
some  days  earlier  than  this,  but  the  peculiar  circum- 
stances under  which  she  was  visiting  her  brother 
served  somewhat  to  make  her  stand-offish  to  Brooke 
Barty,  and  to  make  Brooke  Barty  extremely  diffident 
in  his  manner  towards  her.  It  was  natural  that  the 
girl  should  feel  a  certain  amount  of  shame  that  her 
father  had  thought  her  of  so  little  importance  as  to 

arrange  and  announce  a  marriage  for  her  without 
196 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  197 

her  consent,  without  having  consulted  her  in  any 
way,  in  the  face,  actually,  of  a  previous  refusal  to  fall 
in  with  such  an  arrangement.  It  was  equally  natural 
that  Brooke  Barty  should  hesitate  in  treating  her 
quite  as  he  would  have  been  able  to  do  had  no  such 
contretemps  come  into  her  life.  I  do  not  say  that  he 
ever  put  it  into  words,  that  his  mind  ever  framed  the 
thought;  and  yet  an  instinct  warned  him  that  he 
would  have  to  be  very  careful  in  his  dealings  with 
her  lest  she  should  take  the  natural  expression  of 
his  real  feelings  for  one  of  pity.  There  is  probably 
nothing  so  proud  in  all  the  world  as  a  woman  who 
has  been  scorned,  and  perhaps  no  scorn  can  be  so 
complete  as  where  a  woman  is  made  to  feel  that  her 
judgment  is  valueless.  Rachel  Gorman  had  not 
said  in  so  many  words  that  she  was  the  more  heart- 
sick and  sore  because  Brooke  Barty  had  seen  that 
the  two  men  who  might  be  supposed  to  value  her 
the  most  of  any  in  the  world  had  thought  her  opinion 
of  no  more  value  than  if  she  were  a  bale  of  cotton 
goods.  So  these  two,  while  they  were  distinctly  in- 
terested the  one  in  the  other,  while  they  were  even 
on  the  most  friendly  terms,  were  yet  at  arms'  length 
apart. 

"  Why  doesn't  he  speak  out  ?"  was  Flo's  vexed 
thought  as  she  watched  them  across  the  dinner-table ; 
and  almost  simultaneously  Matthew  Gorman  found 
himself  thinking, — What  a  pity  Barty  hadn't  broken 


i98  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

the  ice  with  Rachel  before  that  fatal  announcement 
at  his  mother's  dinner-party.  However,  it  was  not 
possible  for  any  young  man  to  propose  to  the  girl 
of  his  heart  while  seated  at  the  dinner-table  in  the 
presence  of  her  brother  and  his  wife,  and,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  Mrs.  Matthew  and  Rachel  left  the  table 
that  evening  without  having  advanced  the  situation 
in  the  smallest  degree. 

"  What  did  you  do  this  afternoon  ?"  Flo  enquired 
of  her  sister-in-law,  as  they  settled  themselves  before 
the  drawing-room  fire. 

"  Oh,  I  went  to  tea  with  Polly  and  Beth." 

"  At  Hammond's  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Why  didn't  they  come  here  ?  They  are  not 
obliged  to  meet  their  own  sister  at  a  confectioner's." 

"  No,  dear,  they're  not.  But  you  forget  this  place 
is  being  watched :  Hammond's  isn't." 

"  But  anybody  could  see  you  at  Hammond's." 

"  Oh,  no,  they  couldn't.  Mrs.  Hammond  was  our 
cook  ages  ago,  when  we  were  small  children,  and 
she  knows  all  about  the  row.  Polly  is  her  especial 
pet,  and  she  will  do  anything  for  Polly.  So  she  lent 
us  her  own  sitting-room.  Not  a  soul  knew  anything 
about  it." 

"  And  have  you  any  news  ?" 

"  Not  exactly  news.  Father  has  forbidden  them 
to  go  to  the  Hospital  Ball." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  199 

"Oh,  no!" 

"  Yes.  Apparently  all  the  house  is  going  to  be 
put  into  a  state  of  retreat  and  penitence  because  of 
my  sins  and  delinquencies.  Did  you  hear  anything 
this  afternoon,  Flo  ?" 

"  No,  not  in  the  way  of  news,  dear.  Your  mother 
looks  very  ill,  and  seems  to  be  feeling  more  shattered 
than  usual.  By  the  bye,  she  is  coming  up  here  to 
see  you  as  soon  as  she  is  a  little  better." 

"  He  won't  let  her." 

"  I  don't  think,"  said  Flo,  "  that  he  will  venture, 
autocrat  as  he  is,  to  give  your  mother  any  distinct 
orders  on  that  subject.  At  all  events,  she  is  certainly 
coming.  And  you  will  go  to  the  ball,  of  course." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  I  think  if  my  sisters  are 
forbidden  to  go  it  will  be  rather  mean." 

"  What  do  they  say  about  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  they  ?  They're  awfully  good  about  it, — aw- 
fully unselfish.  They  say,  go  and  enjoy  yourself; 
try  to  forget  that  the  Abode  of  Peace  has  any  exist- 
ence. By  the  bye,  they're  going  to  church  on  Sun- 
day." 

"Really?" 

"  They  say  so.  They  are  like  all  the  rest  of  us," 
said  the  girl,  nursing  her  knee  and  staring  into  the 
fire  with  a  hard,  troubled  gaze ;  "  they've  found  out 
the  hollowness  of  the  sanctuary  and  everything  that 
goes  on  in  it,  so  they  say  they're  going  to  church." 


200  THE  PEACEMAKERS. 

"  I'm  afraid,"  rejoined  Flo,  "  that  going  to  church 
won't  help  them  while  they  go  there  utterly  out  at 
elbows  with  their  father,  any  more  than  sanctuary 
will  help  them  so  long  as  their  father,  who  founded 
it,  is  utterly  out  at  elbows  with  you.  What  a  pity, 

Rachel,  that  you  don't  like  John  Strode !  I  mean 

Oh,  don't  think  that  I'm  advocating  that  man's  claims, 
that  man's  attentions, — no,  no.  But  what  a  pity  that 
your  father  didn't  fix  on  somebody  that  you  did  like ; 
somebody  that  you  would  have  liked  for  a  husband ; 
somebody  like — like " 

"  I  shouldn't  like  anybody  if  I  was  thrown  at  his 
head  in  that  way,"  said  Rachel,  promptly.  "  What 
girl  worth  her  salt  would  ?  No,  no ;  fathers  in  Chris- 
tian England,  as  they're  so  fond  of  calling  it,  should  let 
their  sons  and  their  daughters  make  their  own  plans  in 
life.  A  little  advice,  an  opinion,  just  a  bias, — that  is 
allowable  enough ;  but  I  tell  you  this,  that  if  John 
Strode  had  been  a  duke  and  I  had  been  in  love  with 
him  to  the  very  tips  of  my  fingers,  to  the  last  shred 
of  my  heart,  I  would  still  hold  back  if  a  marriage 
was  hatched  up  without  my  knowledge  and  without 
my  consent.  Yes,  I  will  go  to  the  ball,  just  to  show 
the  Biggs  lot  and  all  the  others  who  are  standing 
around  wondering  whether  I  shall  bend  or  break, 
that  I've  got  a  will  of  my  own  and  that  I  mean  to 
use  it." 

"  Perhaps  he'll  relent  and  let  the  others  go." 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  201 

"  My  father  never  relents,"  said  Rachel ;  "  at  least, 
I  have  never  known  him  to  do  so,  and  I  don't  think 
that  in  the  face  of  present  events  he  is  likely  to  change 
in  that  respect.  Ah  !  here  they  are." 

And  Rachel  proved  herself  to  be  a  true  prophet 
Mr.  Gorman  had  forbidden  the  three  girls  at  the 
Abode  of  Peace  to  go  to  any  outside  entertainment 
whatever.  In  vain  did  Mrs.  Gorman  entreat  of  him 
to  alter  his  decision ;  in  vain  did  she  remind  him  that 
Matty,  for  instance,  without  a  single  word,  without  a 
struggle,  without  any  show  of  repining,  had  given  up 
her  heart's  desire  at  her  father's  bidding. 

"  It  is  hard,"  she  said,  "  that  Matty,  of  all  people, 
should  be  punished  because  Rachel  has  gone  against 
you." 

"  I  have  spoken,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  And  you  won't  do  it  for  me  ?" 

"  My  dear  love,"  he  said,  suddenly  softened,  "  if 
you  ask  me,  how  can  I  refuse  you  anything  ?  But  I 
hope  that  you  will  not  ask  me." 

And  Mrs.  Gorman  sank  back  in  her  chair,  the 
words  frozen  on  her  lips,  her  whole  soul  more 
crushed  than  she  might  have  been  had  he  struck 
her.  As  soon  as  he  was  gone  she  blamed  herself. 

"  Your  father  told  me,"  she  broke  out  to  Matty, 
— "  he  told  me  that  if  I  asked  he  could  refuse  me 
nothing.  Then  he  asked  me  not  to  ask  it.  Matty, 
I  couldn't  do  it." 


202  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Matty,  "  do  you  think  that  one 
ball  more  or  less  matters  to  us  ?  We  don't  care ; 
don't  distress  yourself.  We  wouldn't,  any  of  us, 
make  you  unhappy  by  pining  after  a  mere  pleasure 
that  might  be  no  pleasure  at  all.  Put  it  out  of  your 
mind,  dear  mother." 

"  Rachel  is  going  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  Rachel  is  going.  Matt  is  giving  her  a 
new  dress.  She  didn't  want  to  go ;  she  felt,  as  we 
were  not  to  be  let  to  have  such  a  pleasure,  that  it 
would  be  selfish  of  her.  But  Polly  and  Beth  talked 
her  out  of  it,  and,  as  Flo  very  sensibly  says,  if  she 
were  to  stay  at  home  it  would  look  as  if  there  were 
some  slur  upon  her  and  she  could  not  go.  Her  dress 
— I  went  to  see  it  at  Hardman's — is  beautiful.  I 
wish  you  could  see  her, — see  her  in  it." 

"  And  she  is  bright  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  she  is  very  bright.  Do  you  think, 
mother,  that  he  will  ever  change  ?" 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  Mrs.  Gorman  replied.  "  Your 
father  is  not  of  a  changeable  nature.  I  have  never 
known  him  change.  Look  back  over  your  life,  child, 
and  tell  me,  when  your  father  had  ever  decided  on 
any  point  in  question,  however  unimportant,  did  he 
ever  give  the  matter  a  thought  again  or  allow  any 
other  opinion  to  come  in  front  of  his.  But  he  has 
always  been  the  same,  even  in  small  things ;  and  I 
don't  think  that  he  will  ever  take  any  different 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  203 

tone,  even  in  this  matter  between  Rachel  and  John 
Strode." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence  between  the 
mother  and  daughter.  Mrs.  Gorman  had  found  her 
way  into  her  daughter's  room  as  she  was  undressing 
for  the  night.  She  was  seated  on  a  little  chair  by  the 
fire,  her  strained  face  in  contrast  to  her  handsome 
velvet  dinner-gown,  in  the  bosom  of  which  some  dia- 
monds twinkled  bravely.  Mrs.  Gorman  was  of  a 
nature  which  would  have  scorned  to  go  differently  to 
her  wont  because  she  was  not  of  the  same  mind  as 
her  husband,  and  she  never  thought  of  allowing  her 
natural  grief  to  make  any  difference  in  the  matter  of 
her  toilet. 

Matty  had  moved  softly  about  the  room,  brush- 
ing her  hair  and  performing  several  small  offices 
of  her  toilet  while  they  talked.  Then  she  came  in 
her  white  dressing-gown  and  stood  opposite  to  her 
mother.  She  looked  at  her  half-doubtfully,  toyed 
with  one  or  two  of  the  girlish  nicknacks  on  the 
chimney-shelf,  and  at  last  said,  "  Mother,  I  want  to 
ask  you  something." 

"Yes?" 

"  Well  .  .  .  What  is  it  that  makes  John  Strode  have 
such  influence  with  my  father  ?" 

Mrs.  Gorman  looked  up.     "  I  don't  know." 

"  Don't  you,  really  ?" 

"  No.     I  have  no  idea ;   I  cannot  imagine.     Per- 


204  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

sonally  I  think  that  he  is  the  most  loathsome  young 
man  that  I  know, — that  I  ever  knew.  I  said  as  much 
to  your  father  once.  He  did  not  seem  to  agree  with 
me.  He  told  me  that  it  pleased  him  to  have  John 
Strode  at  his  table,  so  I  never  said  anything  more 
about  it." 

"  I  have  been  thinking,"  said  Matty,  "  a  good  deal 
about  him  lately.  You  know,  mother,  the  influence 
is  all  on  one  side.  My  father  has  no  influence  with 
John  Strode." 

"  What  makes  you  say  that  ?" 

"  If  he  had,  he  would  go  to  sanctuary, — he  would 
be  a  Peacemaker.  But  he  laughs  at  it" 

"  No,  no." 

0  Yes;  I  have  heard  him.  I  have  heard  him  what 
he  called  '  chaff'  my  father  for  his  views.  Anyway, 
the  influence  is  all  on  one  side.  "  I'd  give,"  said 
Matty,  suddenly  bringing  her  hand  down  with  a  bang 
upon  the  wooden  mantel-shelf, — "  I'd  give  a  great 
deal  if  I  knew  the  whole  mystery  of  John  Strode." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence ;  then  Mrs.  Gorman 
suddenly  uproused  herself. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  cannot  help  you  to  it,  and  the 
subject  is  not  so  interesting  that  we  need  stop  out 
of  our  beds  to  discuss  it.  It  is  bad  enough  to  have 
the  man  himself  here.  Good-night,  my  darling; 
don't  worry  about  it.  So  long  as  he  is  kept  from 
marrying  Rachel,  that  is  all  I  care  about." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  205 

But  Matty  sat  down  in  the  chair  which  her 
mother  had  just  vacated  and  stirred  the  fire  into  a 
brilliant  blaze,  that  she  might  enjoy  the  luxury  of  a 
good  think.  A  new  idea  had  come  to  her  that 
night,  an  idea  that  perhaps  John  Strode  .  .  .  But 
no,  it  could  not  be  that!  Yet,  he  might  well  be 
some  relation,  some  person  connected  in  some  way 
with  their  family,  so  that  her  father  was  anxious  to 
make  provision  for  him.  And  yet,  she  had  always 
understood  that  John  Strode  was  rich,  that  he  was 
the  rich  son  of  a  rich  father.  He  had  a  lovely 
place,  fine  horses,  smart  carriages,  and  a  yacht. 
Could  it  be  that  her  father  was  anxious  to  secure  a 
position  of  wealth  for  one  of  his  children  ?  Could 
it  be  that  her  father  was  not  as  well  off  as  they  had 
always  believed  ?  But  no,  there  could  be  no  trouble 
of  that  sort,  or  Matt  would  be  in  the  secret.  She 
was  fain  to  confess  at  the  end  of  her  thinking  that 
she  had  solved  no  mystery,  that  she  was  no  nearer 
to  an  elucidation  thereof.  It  was  a  mystery,  and  a 
mystery,  apparently,  it  must  remain. 

And  then  she  fell  a-dreaming  of  the  days  long 
gone  by,  the  days  when  a  minor  tragedy  had  come 
into  her  life.  Yes,  she  called  it  a  minor  tragedy, 
even  to  herself;  but  she  had  not  thought  it  so  then, 
when  hope's  fairy  blossom  had  been  blighted  in  its 
bud,  when  all  the  tendrils  of  love  had  been  ruth- 
lessly torn  from  her  heart,  when  the  man  who  loved 


206  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

her  had  been  dismissed  with  a  curt  "  no"  for  answer, 
and  her  feelings  had  been  considered  no  more  than 
one  would  consider  the  feelings  of  the  beetle  that 
one  treads  upon.  It  had  seemed  no  minor  tragedy 
then.  But  now,  in  the  face  of  this  hideous  scheme 
that  her  father  had  prepared  for  Rachel,  her  own 
tragedy  seemed  dwarfed  and  almost  unimportant. 
At  worst  she  had  been  bereft,  she  had  never  been 
offered  for  sale  like  some  unknowing  thing  which 
had  no  power  of  will. 

She  sat  there  for  a  long  time,  indeed  until  the  fire 
burned  low  in  the  grate  and  until  a  larger  cinder 
than  had  fallen  for  some  time  slipped  through  the 
bars  and  woke  her  with  a  start  from  her  brown 
study. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  stretching  her  arms  out  wearily, 
"it's  no  use  sitting  here  trying  to  solve  what  is  a 
complete  mystery.  I  suppose  we  shall  get  at  the 
bottom  some  day,  and  if  only  Rachel  has  strength 
of  mind  enough  to  hold  out,  things  may  come 
round  and  be  as  they  were  before." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A   GREAT   SOCIAL   EVENT. 

Why  is  it  that  those  who  would  not  put  their  hands  in  their 
pockets  to  the  extent  of  a  single  guinea  with  which  to  swell  a  sub- 
scription list,  will  put  themselves  to  endless  trouble  and  expense 
when  the  self-same  list  is  swelled  by  some  social  function  ? 

IT  may  be  fairly  said  that  the  Hospital  Ball  was 
the  great  pivot  upon  which  the  social  life  of  Mul- 
lingham  turned.  All  sorts  and  conditions  of  society 
were  in  the  habit  of  meeting  together  that  night  in 
the  Town  Hall,  which  was  usually  decorated  and 
lighted  with  all  the  ingenuity  that  skill  could  devise 
and  the  electrical  company  provide.  Great  ladies 
living  a  few  miles  out  of  the  town,  great  both  in  the 
matter  of  position  and  of  wealth,  filled  their  houses 
yearly  from  roof  to  basement  for  the  occasion  of  the 
Hospital  Ball,  and,  indeed,  vied  with  each  other  as 
to  who  should  marshal  the  largest  cohort  of  beau- 
teous damsels  into  the  great  ball-room.  People  of 
less  importance  did  their  share  towards  swelling  the 
ranks  both  of  the  dancers  and  the  on-lookers,  and 
those  who  never  went  to  any  other  ball  in  the  year 
made  it  a  point  of  honour  to  attend  the  ball  given 
for  the  benefit  of  the  County  Hospital. 

207 


208  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

The  hospital  at  Mullingham  was  a  very  important 
institution ;  for  Mullingham,  being  the  seat  of  a 
manufacturing  trade,  and  also  the  centre  of  a  large 
mining  district,  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  big  things 
in  the  way  of  accidents,  and  at  times  the  hospital, 
always  largely  used,  was  taxed  to  its  utmost  re- 
sources to  accommodate  the  crushed  and  broken 
limbs  of  those  who  were  from  time  to  time  described 
in  the  newspapers  as  "  victims." 

This  year  the  Hospital  Ball  was  to  be  on  an  even 
grander  scale  than  usual,  for  two  colliery  accidents 
within  a  few  weeks  of  each  other,  and  a  run  of  des- 
perate cases  from  the  different  mills  and  Works,  had 
unfortunately  demonstrated  what  a  hospital  board 
had  been  urging  for  several  years,  that  one  of  the 
crying  necessities  of  the  day  was  a  new  wing  to  be 
devoted  entirely  to  emergencies  and  accident  cases. 
So  the  ladies  of  the  neighbourhood  had  been  pressed 
into  the  service,  and  the  price  of  the  Hospital  Ball 
tickets  had  been  doubled ;  it  was  a  bold  move,  but 
one  which  under  the  circumstances  was  permissible 
enough.  Not  only  had  the  price  of  the  tickets  been 
doubled,  but  a  committee  of  ladies  had  been  formed 
for  the  purpose  of  canvassing  for  the  sale  thereof;  at  the 
head  of  them  the  Dean's  wife,  Lady  Emily  Maxwell. 

In  the  course  of  her  peregrinations  for  the  selling 
of  tickets  Lady  Emily  had  gone  as  naturally  to  the 
Abode  of  Peace  as  had  been  her  wont  when  guinea- 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  209 

hunting  for  charity,  and  when  Mrs.  Gorman  had 
told  her  very  gently,  but  decidedly,  that  she  was  so 
grieved  and  sorry  that  she  could  not  take  any  tickets, 
because  Mr.  Gorman  objected  to  their  attending  the 
ball  this  year,  Lady  Emily  had  gathered  her  first 
inkling  of  the  trouble  which  was  brewing  in  that 
establishment. 

"  Not  going  to  let  the  girls  go  to  the  Hospital 
Ball,  Mrs.  Gorman !" 

"  No  ;  I  am  so  sorry,  dear  Lady  Emily,"  was  Mrs. 
Gorman's  response,  "  but  my  husband  has  an  objec- 
tion." 

"  To  the  hospital  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  no ;  but  a  private  objection.  I  cannot 
quite  explain  to  you,  but  things  have  not  been  going 
very  smoothly  with  us  lately,  and " 

"  Smoothly  ?     Do  you  mean ?"  she  broke  off 

short,  and  turned  a  pair  of  eloquent  eyes  upon  the 
three  men-servants  who  were  at  that  moment  serving 
the  tea. 

"  No,  I  don't  mean  in  that  way,"  said  Mrs.  Gor- 
man, comprehending  the  look.  "That  has  never 
been  one  of  our  worries.  We  have  always,"  she 
said,  as  the  door  closed  behind  the  men, — "  we  have 
always  had  plenty  of  money,  Lady  Emily.  I  cannot 
tell  you  all  about  it,  but  my  husband  is  not  very  well 
pleased  with  the  girls  just  now,  and  he  doesn't  wish 
them  to  go  to  the  Hospital  Ball." 

14 


2io  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  I  shall  go  and  see  him  about  it,"  said  Lady  Emily. 

"  I  don't  think  that  he  is  in." 

"  No,  no,  dear  Mrs.  Gorman,  not  in  that  way,  not 
in  that  way  at  all ;  but  I  will  go  down  to  the  Works, 
— I  have  been  there  before,  as  perhaps  you  know.  I 
will  go  and  beard  him,  and  will  tell  him  how  prepos- 
terous the  whole  thing  is." 

"  I  am  sure  he  will  not  take  the  tickets,"  said  Mrs. 
Gorman,  smiling  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  But  I  shall  tell  him  that  he  must  support  local 
charities,  and  I  will  talk  to  him, — I  will  talk  to  him 
like  a  mother !" 

"  Meantime  you  must  let  me  give  you  something 
towards  your  fund;  the  hospital  is  an  institution 
with  which  I  have  great  sympathy.  It  is  the  fashion, 
Lady  Emily,  to  speak  against  hospitals  and  hospital 
management,  but  they  do  a  vast  deal  of  good,  there 
is  no  gainsaying  it." 

"  Yes,  they  do  when  they  are  properly  managed, 
when  they  have  a  proper  committee  of  people  of 
responsible  position  to  look  after  them,"  said  Lady 
Emily,  now  fairly  launched  on  to  her  favourite  topic. 
"  That  is  why  the  hospital  is  such  a  success  here  in 
Mullingham,  because  you  and  I  and  a  dozen  others 
who  know  our  way  about  life  and  hospitals  look  after 
it  in  more  ways  than  as  far  as  mere  money  is  con- 
cerned. If  only  London  institutions  of  the  same 
kind  could  be  managed  as  our  country  ones  are  it 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  211 

would  be  better  for  everybody  concerned.  A  dread- 
ful case  came  under  my  notice  only  the  other  day. 
Muriel  has  a  friend,  a  parson's  daughter,  whose 
mother  was  left  a  widow  quite  early,  and  not  blessed 
with  too  much  money ;  and  this  girl — one  of  several 
— determined  to  become  a  nurse.  Not  being  one- 
and-twenty,  she  found  great  difficulty  in  being  taken 
on  anywhere.  Of  course,  it  stands  to  common  sense, 
and  if  she  had  not  been  so  plucky  as  to  be  almost 
headstrong,  she  would  have  waited  until  she  was  one- 
and-twenty,  or  have  taken  some  private  work  which 
would  have  begun  her  nursing  education  and  yet 
would  not  have  drained  her  strength  before  she  had 
sufficient  strength  to  stand  that  particular  kind  of 
draining.  But  this  girl,  feeling  herself  fit  and  capable 
and  enthusiastic,  went  from  one  place  to  another, 
until  at  last  she  got  accepted  at  a  fever  hospital  in 
the  East  End  of  London.  She  was  then  nineteen 
years  old.  Yes,  thank  you,  I  will  have  another  piece 
of  that  cake ;  it  is  excellent.  No,  I  have  not  finished 
my  tea  yet,  thank  you.  Well,  this  girl  went  down 
to  this  hospital  full  of  hope,  full  of  courage,  full  of 
enthusiasm.  She  ought,  in  the  natural  course  of 
events,  to  have  done  her  three  years  in  some  recog- 
nized hospital  or  infirmary,  and  to  have  taken  a  spell 
at  a  fever  hospital  after  that;  but  she  put  the  cart 
before  the  horse,  and  she  began  at  East  End  Fever 
Hospital.  She  was  immediately  put  upon  night 


212  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

duty,  and  was  kept  at  it  three  months.  No,  I  don't 
say  so  much  about  that,"  as  Mrs.  Gorman  gave  a  cry 
of  horror,  "  because,  after  all,  it  is  easier,  and  most 
nurses  find  it  so,  and  most  navvies  find  it  so  too, 
mind  you,  than  it  would  be  to  do  week  in  and  week 
out  of  day  and  night  work ;  but  the  hospital  was 
so  frightfully  under-nursed,  and  from  the  matron 
downwards  there  was  very  little  to  choose  in  point 
of  technical  experience,  that  the  most  outrageous 
and  unheard-of  things  were  of  daily  occurrence 
among  them.  For  instance,  nurses  in  fever  hos- 
pitals, which  are  extremely  trying  as  well  as  dan- 
gerous, because  you  have  to  nurse  fever  or  infectious 
cases  all  the  time,  as  you  must  know,  ought  to  be 
thoroughly  well  nourished  and  cared  for  outside  the 
wards.  The  food  in  this  place  was  abominable; 
nine  times  out  of  ten  the  wretched  nurses  turned 
from  it  with  loathing  and  went  hungry.  A  nurse  in 
a  fever  hospital,  particularly  one  who  is  on  night 
duty,  should  be  made  to  take  a  proper  amount  of 
air  and  exercise  every  day.  It  is  a  regular  rule,  you 
know,  that  nurses  in  fever  hospitals  shall  take  exer- 
cise in  the  grounds  thereof  and  have  their  half 
holiday  every  week,  being  thoroughly  disinfected 
before  leaving  the  building.  This  particular  fever 
hospital  has  no  grounds,  and  the  nurses  are  expected 
to  take  their  two  hours  of  exercise  trailing  about 
the  drab,  uninteresting,  endless,  weary  East  End 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  213 

streets.  They  are  never  disinfected.  The  process 
by  which  the  public  is  safeguarded  consists  simply 
of  changing  the  cotton  ward-gown  for  an  outdoor 
one;  the  cotton  ward-gown  hangs  under  the  same 
curtain  and  on  adjacent  pegs  to  the  outdoor  gown 
and  outdoor  garments,  and  every  time  that  a  nurse 
from  this  hospital  takes  exercise  she  carries  with 
her  myriads  of  fever  and  diphtheria  microbes,  which 
she  scatters  freely  and  disinterestedly  as  she  walks 
along  the  crowded  and  unwholesome  streets.  Even 
for  half-holidays  they  go  on  the  principle  of  what 
the  eye  never  sees  the  heart  never  grieves  for,  and 
the  disinfecting  process  is  no  more  thorough  than 
that  which  I  have  just  described.  Fortunately  for 
the  public,  the  nurses  are  generally  too  tired  to  take 
the  trouble  of  changing  their  clothes,  and  spend  the 
two  hours'  rest  allotted  for  exercise  either  on  their 
beds  or  in  sewing  for  themselves,  only  going  into 
the  outer  world  on  their  weekly  half- holidays.  You 
will  hardly  believe  it,  dear  Mrs.  Gorman,  but  at  the 
same  time  you  may  accept  it  as  being  simply,  abso- 
lutely, and  entirely  truthful,  when  I  tell  you  that 
when  an  unfortunate  baby  died  in  this  brilliant  insti- 
tution, none  of  the  nurses,  ward-sisters,  not  even  the 
matron  herself,  knew  how  to  perform  the  last  offices 
which  the  poor  little  thing  required,  and  ran  about 
from  one  to  the  other  asking  how  they  should  make 
a  shroud !  Everything  was  managed  in  the  same 


214  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

way.  My  daughter's  friend,  however,  determined 
that  she  would  remain  the  two  years  necessary  to 
acquire  a  character.  When  she  had  been  nine 
months  in  this  precious  institution  the  time  came 
round  for  her  summer  holiday,  a  fortnight.  She 
arrived  at  her  home  looking  such  a  wreck  and 
seemed  so  completely  used  up,  worn  out,  and  ill, 
that  her  mother  and  sisters  entreated  her  to  leave 
and  to  take  a  long  rest.  This  she  absolutely  re- 
fused to  do,  and  at  the  end  of  the  fortnight  she 
went  back  again  and  took  up  her  work  once  more. 
A  short  time  afterwards  she  was  stricken  with  the 
measles.  She  knew  that  she  had  them  by  her  own 
symptoms,  and  represented  this  to  the  matron.  The 
matron  insisted  that  she  had  not  got  the  measles,  and 
pooh-poohed  the  whole  affair,  though  the  girl  was 
feeling  extremely  ill.  However,  ultimately  it  turned 
out  that  the  girl  was  right, — that  she  had  veritable 
measles, — and  where  do  you  think  she  was  laid  up  ? 
Not  in  any  isolation,  not  a  bit  of  it.  She  just  went 
to  her  own  bed  in  the  nurses'  dormitory,  and  re- 
mained there  as  short  a  time  as  possible.  Then, 
when  she  was  able  to  get  about,  without  any  change, 
almost  without  any  period  of  rest,  almost  without 
any  period  of  convalescence,  she  was  put  straight 
on  to  night  duty  again.  They  were,  as  usual,  short- 
handed,  for  in  this  precious  hospital,  naturally,  the 
nurses  were  always  leaving,  She  dragged  on  for 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  215 

almost  three  months  longer,  and  finally,  after  com- 
plaining of  feeling  excessively  ill,  and  being  told 
that  she  was  only  suffering  from  a  little  indigestion, 
she  left  in  a  hurry  and  is  at  this  moment  down  with 
severe  typhoid  fever,  from  which  it  is  very  doubtful 
whether  she  will  ever  fully  recover.  Now,  I  take 
it,"  Lady  Emily  went  on,  "  that  in  this  hospital  there 
is  a  board  of  men.  Men  are  extremely  unobser- 
vant, even  doctors,  but  I  do  not  think  that  with  a 
board  of  ladies  paying  regular  visits  and  thoroughly 
looking  in  to  the  working  of  the  establishment  that 
it  would  be  possible  for  such  cases  as  this  to  exist." 

"  But  what  about  the  matron  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Gor- 
man. 

"The  matron?  Oh,  well,  you  wouldn't  have  a 
hospital  board  made  of  matrons !  In  nine  cases  out 
of  ten,  when  a  woman  becomes  a  hospital  matron, 
she  ceases  to  be  a  woman,  she  becomes  merely  a 
slave-driver,  and  it  is  she  who  needs  to  be  watched 
more  than  anybody  on  the  whole  of  the  nursing 
staff." 


CHAPTER    XX. 

A  WALL  OF  ADAMANT. 

I  know  of  nothing  which  so  offends  a  woman  who  has  stooped  to 
ask  a  favour  as  to  have  it  refused,  no  matter  how  sweetly  the  refusal 
may  be  given.  It  is  like  a  bitter  almond  which  has  been  skilfully 
sugared  over,  still  bitter. 

LADY  EMILY  MAXWELL  drove  down  the  next  day 
to  that  part  of  Mullingham  where  the  Gorman 
Works  were  situated.  An  ordinary  lady  would 
probably  not  have  found  Mr.  Gorman  very  readily, 
but  Lady  Emily  Maxwell  was  well  known  to  the 
employes  of  whom  she  enquired,  and  she  very  soon 
found  herself  crossing  the  threshold  of  the  master's 
private  office. 

Mr.  Gorman  rose  from  his  accustomed  seat  at  the 
big  desk  with  a  certain  unction  in  his  manner. 

"  The  Lord's  peace  be  with  you,"  was  his  greeting. 

"  Oh,  thank  you  so  much,  Mr.  Gorman,  thank 
you.  The  same  to  you  and  many  of  them,"  said 
Lady  Emily,  quite  forgetting  that  he  had  not  wished 
her  a  happy  New  Year.  "  I  hope  you  are  not  very 
busy." 

"  I  am  always  rather  busy,  Lady  Emily,  but  never 
too  busy  to  receive  you,"  said  he,  giving  her  the 
biggest  easy-chair  in  the  room. 
216 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  217 

"  Ah,  now,  that's  very  good  of  you  to  say  that ; 
that's  now  really  extremely  good  of  you.  I  wanted 
to  see  you,  Mr.  Gorman,  particularly,  because  I  went 
to  see  your  dear  and  charming  wife  yesterday  about 
the  Hospital  Ball." 

Mr.  Gorman's  face  hardened. 

"  Your  wife — that  is — you  are  going  to  let  the 
girls  come  to  the  ball,  are  you  not?" 

"  I  think  not,  this  year,"  said  Mr.  Gorman. 

"  Oh,  but,  Mr.  Gorman,  that  is  really  too  bad  of 
you.  Here  are  all  the  ladies  on  the  committee 
moving  heaven  and  earth  to  have  a  success  this 
year,  a  huge  success,  so  as  to  be  able  to  build  this 
new  wing,  and  you,  one  of  our  chief  supporters,  won't 
do  your  best  to  help  us  or  let  your  daughters  come 
to  it !  It  is  perfectly  preposterous !" 

"  I — I  do  not  wish  my  daughters  to  go  to  the  ball 
this  year." 

"But  why?" 

"  I  do  not  wish  it,"  said  he,  in  a  stately  manner 
which  would  have  snubbed  most  ladies  into  a  state 
of  silence  or  of  trembling  fear. 

"  You  have  reasons  ?  Well,  yes,  I  suppose  you 
have ;  I  suppose  they've  been  naughty  girls,  have 
they  ?  Well,  now,  Mr.  Gorman,  you  must  forgive 
them.  You  preach  peace,  you  know ;  and  I  am 
sure  your  children  they  must  be  very  sorry,  and  you 
cannot,  you  really  cannot  mean  them  to  miss  the 


2i8  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

ball  for  any  small  misdemeanours  they  may  have 
committed." 

"  Lady  Emily,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  in  a  very  sweet 
tone,  which  to  one  of  his  own  family  would  have 
betokened  even  more  determination  than  was  usual 
with  him, — "  Lady  Emily,  I  cannot  discuss  my  daugh- 
ters with  any  one.  I  do  not  wish  them  to  go  to  the 
ball,  and  if  they  do  go,  they  will  do  it  in  defiance  of 
my  wishes.  I  am  not  so  puffed  up  with  my  own 
conceit  as  to  imagine  that  our  presence  or  absence 
will  make  any  difference  to  the  success  of  the  even- 
ing or  to  the  state  of  the  hospital  finances.  I  have 
never  been  behindhand  in  giving  to  the  funds  of 
the  hospital,  and  I  have  no  intention  of  beginning 
to  be  niggardly  now.  I  am  not  going  to  the  ball 
myself,  and  I  do  not  wish  my  daughters  to  do  so.  I 
think  I  need  not  say  any  more." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Gorman,  I  am  quite  aware,"  said  Lady 
Emily,  "  that  you  mean  to  snub  me  and  to  tread  me 
out  quite  flat  upon  the  ground ;  but  you  know  we 
parsons'  wives  are  very  unsnubable  creatures,  and 
being  as  intimate  with  your  wife  as  I  am,  and  taking 
as  much  interest  in  your  daughters  as  I  do,  and 
coming  and  bleeding  you  for  purposes  of  charity  as 
often  as  I  do,  I  think  that  I  am  somewhat  of  a  priv- 
ileged person.  What  is  it  ?  Cannot  I  help  you  out 
of  this  ?" 

"  No,  Lady  Emily,  I  don't  think  that  you  can." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  219 

"  Open  confession,  you  know,  is  good  for  the 
soul." 

He  shot  a  glance  at  her  which  was  not  a  peaceful 
glance,  quite  the  contrary ;  but  Lady  Emily,  serene 
and  safe  in  her  position  of  birth  and  power,  sat  look- 
ing benignly  at  him  over  her  aquiline  nose,  and 
neither  realized,  nor  cared  to  realize,  what  a  tumult 
she  was  raising  in  the  bosom  of  the  old  man. 

"  Lady  Emily,  I  must  ask  you  to  excuse  me,"  he 
said,  beginning  to  fidget  among  the  papers  before  him. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know ;  but  you  know  I  am  a  very 
privileged  person,  and,  Mr.  Gorman,  your  girls  have 
always  gone  to  the  ball ;  the  ball  will  be  nothing 
without  them.  Do  think  about  it;  do  reconsider 
your  decision.  I  went  to  see  your  wife  yesterday, 
and  she  told  me  you  would  not  let  them  go.  I  told 
her  that  I  should  come  and  see  you  about  it." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  add  to  what  my  wife  has 
already  told  you,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  beginning  to  be 
more  precise  in  manner  and  in  tone  with  each  mo- 
ment that  went  by.  "  I  shall  be  very  pleased  to  give 
you  a  donation  for  the  new  wing,  I  think  it  is  an 
excellent  project,  but  you  must  please  not " 

"  Not  ask  any  questions,  or  seek  to  pry  into  my 
neighbours'  business,"  said  Lady  Emily,  with  a  bland 
little  laugh.  "  Ah,  Mr.  Gorman,  I  don't  know  when 
I  have  been  so  snubbed  as  this  morning;  and  from 
you,  of  all  people,  too !  It  is  odd." 


220  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  Far  be  from  me  any  desire  to  snub  you,  Lady 
Emily,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  opening  a  drawer  at  his 
left  hand  and  taking  therefrom  a  cheque-book. 
"  Shall  I  write  you  a  little  cheque  now  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  thank  you  ;  we  are  by  way  of  taking  all 
we  can  get.  We  shall  want  more  than  we  shall  re- 
ceive, and  we  shall  be  most  obliged,  and  the  larger 
you  make  it  the  more  obliged  we  shall  be ;  but,  at 
the  same  time,  it  won't  compensate  me  for  the  ab- 
sence of  your  daughters." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,  because  they  are  not  going 
to  the  ball,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  beginning  to  write. 
Then  he  signed  his  name  with  a  flourish,  turned  the 
cheque-book  over,  pressed  it  upon  the  blotting-pad, 
tore  out  the  leaf  and  folded  it  in  four.  "  Shall  I  put 
it  into  an  envelope,  Lady  Emily,  or  will  you  have  it 
in  your  purse  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  will  take  it  in  my  bag  here,  thank  you, — 
and  cross  it,  will  you  ?  Thank  you  so  much."  She 
opened  her  velvet  bag,  which  had  a  beautiful  silver 
top  and  chain,  and  held  out  her  hand  for  the  piece 
of  paper. 

"  I  have  crossed  it,"  he  said,  as  he  handed  it  to  her. 

"May  I  look  at  it?" 

"  Oh,  certainly." 

She  opened  the  folded  cheque.  "  Five  hundred 
pounds!  Mr.  Gorman,  this  is  munificent!" 

"  It  is  not  too  much  ?"  he  asked. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  221 

"  Oh,  no,  no ;  I  will  take  it  as  a  first  donation,  if 
you  like,  but,  joking  apart,  it  is  extremely  handsome, 
and  I  am  most  obliged  to  you, — most  obliged.  And 
I  am  sure  the  Dean  will  be ;  poor  thing,  he  is  worn 
to  death  by  this  hospital  business,  and  he  will  be 
most  obliged  to  you,  most  obliged  and  grateful." 
She  slipped  the  chain  of  the  bag  over  her  wrist  and 
rose  from  her  chair.  "  Well,  good-bye,  Mr.  Gorman ; 
my  best  thanks.  I  wish  you  were  less  hard-hearted. 
You  have  made  me  at  once  very  glad  and  very  sorry. 
I  think  I  shall  come  every  morning  and  see  if  I  can- 
not make  you  relent." 

Mr.  Gorman  bowed  over  her  hand. 

"  If  you  will  honour  me  every  morning,"  he  said, 
in  his  most  dignified  and  courtly  manner,  "  I  cannot 
say  but  that  I  should  be  extremely  pleased  to  see 
you ;  but  I  cannot  give  you  any  other  answer  on 
that  question." 

The  lady  heaved  a  great  sigh. 

"Ah,  dear,  dear;  you  are  very  difficult  to  treat 
with,  very.  Well,  having  got  so  much  out  of  you,  I 
suppose  I  mustn't  abuse  you,  for  I  am  most  grateful 
for  the  cheque;  it  is  most  kind  of  you.  Well,  good- 
bye, good-bye,  and  thank  you  very  much  again." 

She  allowed  him  to  put  her  into  her  carriage,  and 
drove  away  with  a  wave  of  her  hand.  But  just  out- 
side the  gates  she  chanced  to  see  Mrs.  Wilson  coming 
waddling  along  the  road. 


222  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  Stop,  John  !"  she  said.     "  Good-morning,  Polly." 

"Ah,  my  lady,  good-morning.  Is  that  you?  I 
suppose  you've  been  to  see  the  master  ?" 

"  Yes,  Polly,  I  have.  Are  you  going  into  the 
Works?" 

"  I  am  only  going  to  leave  a  bit  of  a  note  for  Wil- 
son, my  lady ;  that  is  all.  Oh,  I  know  better  than 
to  go  into  them  Works.  What  would  they  want 
with  an  old  thing  like  me  worrying  around  ?" 

"Well,  I've  been  worrying  around,"  said  Lady 
Emily.  "  Here,  Charles,  take  Mrs.  Wilson's  note  in. 
Get  in  beside  me,  Polly ;  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

With  a  little  difficulty  Mrs.  Wilson  got  into  the 
carriage  and  sat  down  beside  Lady  Emily.  "  What 
is  it,  my  lady  ?  You  look  troubled." 

"  I  am  troubled,  Polly,  I  am  troubled.  I  have 
been  to  try  and  persuade  Mr.  Gorman — a  good  man, 
Polly,  but  very  autocratic — I  have  been  to  try  and 
persuade  him  to  let  those  poor  girls  go  to  the  Hospi- 
tal Ball.  I  might  as  well  have  talked  to  the  kerb- 
stones !" 

"  Ah !  'e's  not  against  the  hospital,  surely." 

"Against  it?  No.  He  gave  me  five  hundred 
pounds  towards  the  new  wing, — indeed,  I  am  not 
sure  whether  it  is  not  merely  a  first  donation ;  but 
let  his  children  go  to  the  ball,  he  won't !  What  is 
the  matter  there,  Polly  ?" 

"  Well,  my  lady,"  said  Polly,  "  if  what  I   'ear  is 


THE    PEACEMAKERS.  223 

true,  they  say  my  darling  young  lady,  my  sweet 
child,  Miss  Rachel,  wants  to  marry  John  Strode." 

"  Oh,  that  is  preposterous !" 

"  And  they  say  that  'er  pa  won't  'ear  of  it." 

"  I  should  think  not,  indeed." 

"  And  she's  left  'ome,  my  lady." 

"What?" 

"  Yes,  she  is  staying  up  at  '  The  Larches,'  with 
Mr.  Matthew  and  'is  wife.  Mr.  Matthew  takes  'is 
sister's  part,  and,  if  what  my  neighbour  Mrs.  Biggs 
tells  me  is  true,  and  I  see  no  reason  to  doubt  it,  Mr. 
Matthew  is  conniving  at  'is  sister's  doing  just  as  she 
likes  in  the  matter." 

"Oh,  well,  if  that  is  so,  what  wonder  that  Mr. 
Gorman  is  angry  and  vexed?  But  still,  it  seems 
rather  hard  that  he  shouldn't  let  the  other  three  girls 
go  to  the  ball,  doesn't  it,  Polly  ?  Can't  you  do  any- 
thing to  persuade  him  ?" 

"  My  lady,  my  lady,  if  you  'ave  failed,  'ow  is  it 
likely  I  should  succeed  ?  I've  about  as  much  influ- 
ence with  Mr.  Gorman  as,  as  your  carriage  'orses 
'ave." 

"  But  Mr.  Wilson  has " 

"  Wilson, — yes ;  Wilson  'as  a  deal  of  influence 
with  the  master,  that's  true,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  with 
the  air  of  one  who  is  pondering  deeply. 

"  Ah,  here  is  Charles  back  again.  Where  do  you 
want  to  go,  Polly  ?" 


224  THE  PEACEMAKERS. 

"  Just  where  you  like,  my  lady,  'ome  or  into  the 
town  ;  it's  all  one  to  me." 

"  Well,  drive  into  the  town  with  me  a  little  way, 
and  then  I'll  bring  you  back.  Into  the  town,  into 
the  High  Street,  Charles.  Do  you  think,"  Lady 
Emily  went  on  eagerly,  as  soon  as  they  were  fairly 
started, — "  do  you  think  that  Mr.  Wilson  could  do 
anything  to  bring  him  to  reason  ?" 

"  Well,  I  was  just  thinking,  my  lady,  I  was  just 
thinking.  You  see,  Wilson  'as  unbounded  influence 
at  the  Works,  and  in  matters  of  business  I've  'card 
the  master  say  over  and  over  again  that  Wilson's  'is 
right-'and  man ;  but  whether  'e'd  take  kindly  to  Wil- 
son's interfering  with  family  matters  is  more  than  I 
can  say.  Now  I  should  think  if  anybody  'ad  any 
influence  it's  Mr.  Matthew." 

"  But  he  is  so  fond  of  his  sisters,  surely  he  would 
do  his  best  for  them." 

"  Maybe  'e  'as,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  sensibly.  "  At 
all  events,  Miss  Rachel's  staying  up  there." 

"And  you  think  it  wouldn't  do  to  get  your  hus- 
band to  say  a  word  ?" 

"  Why,  I  don't  think  it  would,"  replied  Mrs.  Wil- 
son, "  I  really  don't  think  it  would.  Because,  you 
see,  perhaps  you  and  the  Dean  wouldn't  take  it  very 
well  if  I  was  to  go  interfering  with  my  dear  Miss 
Muriel." 

"Well,   perhaps    I    shouldn't,    Polly,   perhaps    I 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  225 

shouldn't.  But  it  is  vexing.  Poor  girls,  they  must 
be  heart-broken." 

A  little  later  in  the  day  Lady  Emily  passed  Polly 
and  Beth  Gorman  in  the  High  Street.  She  at  once 
stopped  the  carriage  and  called  to  them. 

"  My  dears,  what  is  this  that  I  hear  about  your 
not  going  to  the  Hospital  Ball  ?" 

"Oh,  father  won't  let  us  go,"  replied  Polly, 
promptly. 

"  But  why  ?" 

"  Oh,  he's  so  angry  with  Rachel." 

"  But  why  ?  What  has  Rachel  done  ?  Does  she 
really  want  to  marry  John  Strode  ?" 

Lady  Emily  asked  the  question  as  if  a  more  pre- 
posterous notion  could  not  enter  a  girl's  heart. 

"Rachel!  Marry  John  Strode !  Oh,  Lady  Emily, 
that  is  just  it." 

"What,  what  is  just  it?" 

"  That  she  won't  marry  John  Strode." 

Lady  Emily's  bland  expression  changed. 

"  Do  you  mean  me  to  understand  that  your  father 
wishes  such  a  marriage  ?" 

"  Yes ;  he  insists  upon  it." 

"  That  Rachel  should  marry  John  Strode  ?" 

"Yes." 

"But  why?" 

"  We  don't  know.     Father  likes  him." 

"  Likes  John  Strode !  Oh,  my  dear,  I  might  well 
is 


226  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

be  unsuccessful  when  I  went  and  entreated  him  to 
allow  you  to  go  to  the  ball.  I  thought  it  was  all  the 
other  way,  and  that  he  was  so  vexed  with  her  for 
wanting  to  marry  John  Strode." 

"  But  she  refuses,  she  absolutely  refuses !"  Polly 
cried,  unable  to  help  laughing  at  Lady  Emily's  mys- 
tified countenance.  "  And  that's  why  she's  gone  to 
stay  at  'The  Larches'  with  Matt  and  his  wife,  be- 
cause she  won't  marry  John  Strode." 

"  Dear  me !  Well,  my  dear,  you've  given  me  quite 
a  shock.  You  don't  say  so !  Well,  I  did  my  best 
to  persuade  your  father  to  allow  you  to  go,  but, 
really,  I — I — I  shouldn't  like  to  quarrel  with  him,  for 
he  is  most  good  and  generous  when  I  want  help  of  any 
kind ;  but,  my  dear  girl,  I  shouldn't  like  to  go  again  !" 

"  Oh,  well,  it  wouldn't  be  any  use,  Lady  Emily, 
because  father  never  changes  his  mind,  and  when  he 
says  *  no'  he  means  '  no ;'  so  the  moment  he  said  we 
were  not  to  go  to  the  ball,  we  gave  up  any  idea  of 
thinking  about  it  or  fretting  about  it.  And,  after  all, 
what  is  a  ball  more  or  less  ?  It  would  only  make 
mother  unhappy  if  we  worried,  and  so  we  don't  think 
about  it ;  we  are  not  going,  that  is  all.  But  thank 
you  all  the  same  for  going  and  asking  father ;  it  was 
awfully  good  of  you,  awfully  good.  But  please, 
dear  Lady  Emily,  don't  worry  about  us." 

"  My  dear,"  said  Lady  Emily,  "  you  have  given 
me  quite  a  shock." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

BREAKING    BOUNDS. 

You  know  the  old  adage, "  One  man  may  lead  a  horse  to  the  water, 
but  twenty  cannot  make  him  drink,"  and  you  probably  know  by  the 
experience  of  your  observation  that,  of  all  circumstances  in  life,  it  is 
most  often  applicable  in  affairs  of  the  heart. 

ALMOST  the  first  person  whom  Lady  Emily  Max- 
well saw  when  she  entered  the  Town  Hall  on  the 
night  of  the  Hospital  Ball  was  Rachel  Gorman,  and 
Rachel  was  walking  across  the  ball-room  with  Brooke 
Barty.  Her  first  thought  was  that  Mr.  Gorman  had 
relented  and  had  allowed  his  daughters  to  go  to  the 
ball  after  all.  Five  minutes  later,  however,  she  saw 
Matt  Gorman  passing  near  and  beckoned  to  him  to 
come  and  speak  to  her. 

"  I  thought  your  sisters  were  not  to  be  allowed  to 
come  to  the  ball,  Mr.  Matthew,"  she  said  to  him. 

"  Neither  are  they,  Lady  Emily." 

"  But  Rachel  is  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  Rachel  is  staying  with  us." 

"  And  you  brought  her  ?" 

"  Yes,  we  brought  her." 

"  Is  this  I  hear  true  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  heard,  but  I'm  afraid  it 
is,"  he  replied. 

227 


228  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

She  unfurled  her  fan  and  held  it  so  that  their  con- 
versation might  be  kept  strictly  to  themselves. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  very 
much  over  the  aquiline  nose,  "  what  can  your  father 
be  thinking  of?" 

"  That's  what  we  ask  ourselves  every  day,  all  of 
us." 

"  Did  he  consent  to  Rachel's  coming  ?" 

"  Oh,  no.     Rachel  is  cut  adrift." 

"  Cut  adrift  ?     What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?" 

"  What  do  I  mean,  Lady  Emily  ?  Why,  that  she 
has  been  turned  out." 

"  From  home  ?" 

"  From  home,  Lady  Emily ;  yes." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  your  father  has 
turned  your  sister  out  of  the  house  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Then  where,  may  I  ask,  does  the  Peacemaking 
come  in  ?" 

"That's  what  we  all  want  to  know,"  said  Matt,  with 
a  grim  appreciation  of  the  humorous  side  of  the  sit- 
uation that  was  not  lost  upon  the  Dean's  wife.  "  The 
fact  is,  I  heard  the  Dean  say  something  the  other 
day  to  my  mother  that  seemed  to  put  the  entire  sit- 
uation and  hit  the  nail  on  the  head  as  completely  as 
if  he  had  known  what  was  going  to  happen  in  the 
immediate  future.  He  said  that  he  always  told  his 
good  friend  Mr.  Gorman  that  Peacemaking  was  a 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  229 

little  religion  de  luxe,  very  well  fitted  for  the  rich  and 
temperate  few,  but  not  for  the  work  a  day  world. 
That,  Lady  Emily,  puts  the  whole  case  in  a  nutshell. 
As  long  as  the  whole  creed  of  the  Peacemakers 
meant  no  more  than  so  much  personal  kowtow  to 
my  father,  the  scheme  worked  beautifully ;  the  mo- 
ment that  anybody  in  the  community  ventures  to 
have  an  opinion  of  their  own,  Peacemaking  has  gone 
to — to  pot.  So  long  as  my  father  is  held  as  a  sort 
of  first  cousin  to  God  Almighty,  it  is  an  admirable 
religion.;  but  so  soon  as  the  rest  of  the  sect  find  out 
that  they've  got  not  only  bodies,  but  souls  and  hearts 
of  their  own,  then  the  linch-pin  seems  to  be  gone.  I 
never  exactly  believed  in  it  myself.  I  was  born  in  it, 
and  I  thought  it  as  good  as  any  other  mode  of  living 
a  decent  life ;  in  fact,  I  didn't  think  much  about  it, 
one  way  or  the  other ;  but  I  see  now  that  no  man  can 
start  a  religion  of  his  own.  It's  so  apt  to  be  just  a 
nice  little  comfortable  religion  which  will  just  suit 
himself,  and  often  only  prove  an  easy  fit  for  him  as 
long  as  things  go  smoothly  and  pleasantly." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  Dean's  wife,  "  there  is  a  great  deal 
in  that." 

"  There  is  everything  in  it,"  said  Matt.  "  You 
know  it  is  all  fair  enough  that  he  who  pays  the  piper 
shall  choose  the  tune,  but  there  comes  a  day  when 
somebody  else  would  like  to  pay  the  piper,  there 
comes  a  day  when  somebody  else  cannot  dance  to 


230  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

the  tune  chosen  by  another,  and  my  poor  little  sister 
has  found  it  out  already." 

"  She  is  quite  firm  ?" 

"  Oh,  firm  as  a  rock." 

"  And  who  is  the  young  man  she  is  dancing  with 
now  ?  I  can't  see.  Was  it  Mr.  Barty  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Ah !  a  very  good  antidote  to  John  Strode.  Is 
John  Strode  here  to-night  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  in  great  form,  with  a  diamond  like  a 
shilling  in  his  shirt-front,  and  his  hair  fresh  cropped, 
and  an  orchid  in  his  button-hole,  and  the  shiniest 
boots,  Lady  Emily,  that  ever  came  out  of  a  shoe- 
maker's shop.  I  like  shiny  boots  myself,"  he  went 
on,  sticking  his  own  foot  out  and  looking  at  it  reflec- 
tively, "  and  I  like  an  orchid  in  my  button-hole,  and 
I  like  a  man's  hair  to  be  well  cropped,  and  I  don't 
know  that  I  very  strongly  object  to  a  diamond  shirt- 
stud,  although  I've  never  worn  one  myself,  but,  some- 
how, all  these  things  on  John  Strode  become  very 
offensive,  most  offensive,  and  I  feel  every  time  I  look 
at  him  such  an  itching  in  my  foot  to  go  and  give  him 
a  downright  good  thundering  kicking.  I  only  hope, 
Lady  Emily,  that  I  shall  be  able  to  keep  that  feeling 
in  check  without  committing  myself  very  deeply,  be- 
cause I  suppose  that,  after  all,  it  is  a  sort  of  compli- 
ment when  even  a  John  Strode  wants  to  marry  a 
lady." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  231 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Lady  Emily ;  "  I  really 
don't  think  so.  Well,  my  dear  Matt,  you  and  I  can- 
not sit  here  talking  all  the  evening, — I  must  call  you 
Matt,  as  I  used  to  do  when  you  were  a  boy " 

"  I  wish  you  would." 

"  Yes ;  it  is  not  quite  proper,  I  suppose,  but  I  like 
you  so  much, — I  like  you  so  much  ;  I  always  thought 
you  one  of  the  nicest  boys  I  ever  knew.  You're  as 
nice  as  your  mother,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal ; 
most  boys  are  not.  But  we  must  not  stop  here  talk- 
ing all  the  evening,  because  we  both  have  the  inter- 
ests of  the  hospital  at  heart, — we  both  have  work  to 
do.  By  the  bye,  your  wife  has  not  been  to  speak  to 
me.  Tell  her  she  is  not  to  neglect  me ;  I  don't  like 
to  be  neglected.  And  I  will  take  my  opportunity 
of  telling  that  dear  child — not  to  be  obstinate  against 
her  father,  oh,  dear,  no,  but  to  be  strong  and  firm  in 
her  own  rights.  Yes,  I  think  even  the  Dean  would 
say  I  was  right  in  that.  Now,  my  dear  boy,  go  and 
do  your  duty,  and  I  will  do  mine." 

"  Hullo,  Matt !"  said  a  man,  as  Matthew  walked 
away  in  quest  of  his  wife ;  "  Lady  Emily  looked  as 
if  she  was  giving  you  a  curtain  lecture." 

"  Well,  she  wasn't ;  she  was  giving  me  some  very 
excellent  advice,  which  I  mean  to  take.  She  is  a 
very  fine  woman,  and  she  knows  what  she's  talking 
about,"  was  Matthew's  prompt  reply. 

He  did  come  across  his  wife  presently,  radiant  in 


232  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

a  smart  pink  gown  and  all  the  advantages  of  an  ex- 
cellent partner. 

"  Flo,"  he  said,  "  don't  neglect  to  go  and  speak  to 
Lady  Emily ;  she  told  me  you  hadn't  spoken  to  her 
yet.  Go  pretty  soon.  By  the  bye,  she  knows  all 
about  the  row." 

"  She  sides  with  us,  of  course  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes.     Are  you  having  a  good  time  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  quite  a  splendid  time.  What  are  you 
going  to  do  ?" 

"  Well,  I'm  just  going  to  look  after  some  of  the 
people  at  the  door.  I  promised  I  would  stay  about 
there  for  half  an  hour  and  look  after  the  late  comers, 
get  them  partners,  and  make  myself  generally  useful." 

So  the  evening  wore  away  in  all  the  delicious 
whirl  of  general  success.  Never  had  such  a  crush 
been  known,  even  at  a  Hospital  Ball.  The  brilliant 
toilettes,  many  handsome  uniforms,  blazing  jewels, 
costly  flowers,  and  radiant  happiness  of  those  par- 
ticipating all  served  to  make  a  brilliant  and  success- 
ful whole. 

"  Rachel,  my  dear,"  said  Lady  Emily,  an  hour 
later,  as  Rachel  approached  her  on  Brooke  Barry's 
arm,  "you  look  quite  charming  to-night;  I  have 
never  seen  you  look  better.  Are  you  enjoying  your- 
self very  much  ?" 

"  Oh,  very  much,  Lady  Emily,  thank  you, — very 
much  indeed." 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  233 

"  Well,  don't  stay  wasting  precious  time  talking  to 
an  old  woman  like  me;  go  away  and  enjoy  yourself 
still  more,  dear.  Mind  you  take  care  of  her,  Mr. 
Barty." 

They  were  on  their  way  to  sit  out  a  dance  in  one 
of  the  corridors  leading  to  the  offshoots  from  the 
great  hall  of  the  building. 

"  Not  that  way,"  said  Brooke  Barty,  as  she  would 
have  turned  to  the  right.  "  Come  this  way.  There 
is  the  jolliest  little  corner  here  where  we  can  sit  most 
happily  for  as  long  as  we  like.  There,  now,  isn't  this 
jolly?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  perfectly  charming,"  cried  Rachel,  seat- 
ing herself  on  the  sofa,  which  was  well  screened  from 
general  view. 

Brooke  Barty  sat  down  beside  her.  "  Let  me  fan 
you,"  he  said. 

He  fanned  her  so  vigorously  that  she  presently 
cried  out  to  him  to  stop.  "  Enough,  enough ;  I  am 
quite  cold !" 

And  then,  somehow,  as  they  sat  there,  he  reverted 
to  the  careless  words  which  Lady  Emily  Maxwell 
had  let  fall. 

"  She  said  I  was  to  take  care  of  you,"  he  said.  "  I 
wish,  Rachel,  I  wish  that  you  would  let  me  take  care 
of  you  for  always." 

"She  meant  it  in  jest, — she  meant  for  the  mo- 
ment." 


234  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  But  I  wish  that  you  would  let  me  take  care  of 
you  for  always." 

He  had  been  waiting  so  long  for  the  opportunity, 
— well,  after  all,  it  was  only  a  few  weeks,  but  they 
had  seemed  long  to  him, — and  she  had  been  hoping 
and  yet  dreading  to  hear  some  such  words  as  these, 
more  than  half  inclined  in  the  face  of  recent  events 
to  forswear  herself  from  declarations  of  any  kind, 
and  yet,  when  it  came  so  simply,  so  naturally,  and 
yet  so  earnestly,  there  was  no  idea  in  Rachel  Gorman's 
mind  of  putting  off  the  day  for  a  single  moment. 

"  Do  you  ?"  she  said. 

She  had  laid  her  bouquet — a  beautiful  posy  of 
white  flowers  which  he  had  sent  to  her — down  on 
the  couch  beside  her;  she  was  busily  toying  with 
the  mother-o'-pearl  sticks  of  her  feather  fan,  and  she 
looked  down  at  her  white  gloved  fingers  as  if  all  her 
attention  was  necessary  to  the  very  trivial  occupation 
which  she  had  found.  He  caught  them  passionately, 
fan  and  all,  in  his  own. 

"  You  know  that  I  do,"  he  said.  "  I  should  have 
spoken  out  ever  so  long  ago,  only  I  felt  that  you  had 
been  so  wronged,  so  startled  out  of  yourself  by  all 
that  has  happened,  that  my  lips  were  sealed.  And 
yet,  you  must  have  known  all  along  exactly  what  I 
was  feeling.  You  will  ?  You  will  give  yourself  to 
me,  won't  you  ?  Surely,  in  the  face  of  all  this,  your 
father  would  not  refuse  you  to  me  ?" 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  235 

"  I  don't  think  that  my  father  will  ever  give  you 
his  consent." 

"  Well,  so  long  as  you  give  me  yours — which  you 
have  not  done  yet — nothing  else  matters.  I  will  go 
and  see  him  to-morrow,  if  you  will  give  me  leave. 
But  first — first  of  all — I'd  like  you  to  give  me  the 
leave,  you  know." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  laugh  that  was  half 
shy  and  half  glad. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Barty  !"  she  said. 

And  then  he — well,  you  know  how  these  things 
happen ;  somehow  his  arm  found  its  way  round  her, 
and  she  herself  was  drawn  quite  close  to  him.  And 
then  there  was  no  doubt  that  Rachel  Gorman  and 
Brooke  Barty  had  plighted  their  troth  for  all  time. 

How  long  they  sat  there  in  that  pleasant  hiding- 
place  I  should  not  like  positively  to  say.  It  was  a 
long  time.  Several  partners  were  seeking  Rachel  all 
over  the  place,  but  without  success  in  finding  her. 
And  when  at  last  they  did  find  their  way  back  to 
everyday  life,  Brooke  Barty  suggested  that  supper 
would  not  be  a  bad  idea,  and  carried  her  off  in 
search  of  it.  However,  even  newly  betrothed 
couples  cannot  altogether  have  their  own  way  and 
break  down  already  existing  engagements,  and  be- 
fore either  of  them  had  begun  to  think  about  moving 
away  from  the  table  at  which  they  had  ensconced 
themselves  an  imperative  partner  appeared  upon  the 


236  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

scene  and  insisted  upon  Rachel  fulfilling  her  obli- 
gations. 

So  Brooke  Barty,  feeling  very  much  at  peace  with 
the  world  himself,  and  everybody  else,  sauntered  out 
into  the  ball-room,  and  by  an  accident  found  himself 
close  to  Matthew  Gorman. 

"  Hullo,  old  chap,  you  not  dancing?"  said  Matt. 

"  I've  danced  enough,  thank  you,"  Barty  replied. 

Matt  looked  at  him  sharply.  "  Not  having  a  very 
good  time  ?" 

"  Oh,  my  dear  chap,  yes ;  the  very  best  possible 
time.  I  never  enjoyed  myself  more  in  all  my  life. 
I  don't  happen  to  be  dancing  this  minute." 

"  Can  I  get  you  a  partner  ?" 

"Oh,  thank  you,  no,  my  dear  fellow,  no.  I'm 
going  to  dance  again  presently."  Then  he  hooked 
his  arm  into  Matthew  Gorman's.  "  I  say,  old  fellow, 
I've  done  it !" 

"  Done  it  ?     Done  what  ?" 

"  I've  spoiled  John  Strode's  chance." 

"  By  Jove,  you  don't  say  so !     Is  it  all  settled  ?" 

"  Between  ourselves  ;  yes,  all  settled." 

"  By  Jove,  I'm  glad  !  I'll  shake  hands  with  you, 
Barty !  I  am  glad,  by  Jove,  yes.  Oh,  how  pleased 
my  wife  will  be !  Good  luck  and  happiness  to  you, 
old  fellow  ;  she's  a  brick,  if  ever  there  was  one." 

"  Of  course  I've  got  to  face  your  father  yet." 

"  Well,  yes,  you  have  that." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  237 

"  I'll  go  and  see  him  to-morrow ;  I'll  go  down  to- 
morrow morning  and  get  it  over.  If  he  says  '  yes/ 
of  course  it  will  be  all  plain  sailing." 

"  And  if  he  says  '  no'  ?"  was  Matthew's  question. 

"  If  he  says  '  no,' — if  he  won't  give  his  consent, — 
why,  we  must  just  do  without  it,  that's  all.  I  would 
rather  have  taken  my  wife  from  her  own  home,  with 
the  regulation  fuss  and  blessing,  and  so  on ;  but  if  I 
can't  get  her  that  way,  why,  I  shall  take  her  the  way 
I  can  get  her.  It  would  be  a  dreadful  nuisance  to 
have  to  put  the  banns  up  somewhere  on  the  sly  and 
run  away ;  but,  of  course,  if  your  father  is  obstinate, 
why,  we  shan't  have  any  choice  in  the  matter.  But 
surely,  when  he  sees  that  we  are  both  set  upon  each 
other,  that  we've  fixed  our  hearts, — you  know,  old 
chap, — and  that  the  other  fellow  is  absolutely  im-' 
possible  and  distasteful  to  Rachel,  surely  he'll  never 
hold  out  longer  than  that." 

"  My  dear  Brooke,"  said  Matthew  Gorman,  in  a 
very  definite  tone,  "  there  is  no  knowing  what  line 
my  father  will  take.  He's  a  Peacemaker,  and  Peace- 
makers, you  know,  are  a  very  curious  set  of  people. 
I  take  it  that  they're  something  like  fire-worshippers, 
— all  very  well  as  long  as  you  live  in  a  hot  climate, 
where  there's  plenty  of  sun  to  worship,  but  a  dead 
failure  when  you  get  into  the  misty  north,  where 
you've  dull  skies  and  clouds  ad  libitum.  However, 
my  dear  chap,  you  can  but  do  your  best  and  face  the 


238  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

worst,  and  whichever  way  it  goes  remember  she's 
worth  it,  and  I'll  stick  by  you  to  the  last  ounce  of 
influence  I've  got  in  me.  By  Jove,  I've  never  been 
so  pleased  about  anything  in  my  life  before  !" 

"  Not  even  your  own  marriage  ?" 

"  No,  not  even  my  own  marriage ;  because,  you 
see,  my  mother-in-law  is  a  most  sensible  woman,  who 
doesn't  interfere  with  her  children's  legitimate  busi- 
ness, and  somehow  or  other  my  wife  and  I  made  up 
our  minds  without  bothering  anybody  or  anybody 
bothering  us." 

"Then  your  father  never  attempted  to  interfere 
with  you  ?" 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Matthew,  "  it's  part  of  my 
father's  creed  that  a  man  shall  marry  according  to 
his  choice.  The  extraordinary  thing  is  that  he 
doesn't  consider  the  girl  should  have  any  choice  at 
all.  That's  where  we're  all  at  loggerheads." 

"  Then  don't  you  think  if  I  represent  to  him  that 
Rachel  is  the  girl  of  my  choice  he  may  think  it 
quite  right  that  she  should  be  allowed  to  marry  me, — 
I  mean  with  bell  and  book  and  all  that  sort  of  thing  ?" 

"  He  may.  Probably  he'll  be  hard  driven  be- 
tween the  feeling  that  you  both  want  her,  and  you 
both  can't  have  her.  Only,  I'm  terribly  afraid  that 
having  given  his  word  and  promised  his  influence  to 

that  brute  Strode And,  by  Jove,  if  he  isn't 

asking  Rachel  to  dance  now  !  Look  at  him  !" 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  239 

"That  just  reminds  me,"  said  Brooke  Barty, 
"  she's  engaged  to  me." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  heard  Rachel  say,  as  he  hurried 
up  to  her,  "  that  I  must  refuse  you.  I  am  engaged 
for  this  dance  and  for  every  other  dance." 

"  And  I  think,"  said  Brooke,  offering  his  arm,  and 
utterly  ignoring  John  Strode,  "  that  you  are  engaged 
to  me." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A    MOMENTOUS    INTERVIEW. 

They  say  that  Christianize  the  African  negro  as  you  will,  he  will 
always  have  lurking  somewhere  deep  down  in  his  heart  some  traces 
of  his  original  fetish-worship,  which  may  rise  up  and  possess  him 
again  at  any  moment.  And  in  some  English  husbands  and  fathers, 
in  spite  of  advanced  education  and  the  female  suffrage  question, 
there  still  lingers  some  trace  of  the  old  holding  that  a  woman  is  a 
chattel  and  nothing  more.  It  is  a  sort  of  Englishman's  fetish. 

THERE  was  not  much  of  the  caitiff  in  Brooke 
Barty's  genial  nature.  By  eleven  o'clock  the  fol- 
lowing morning  he  turned  in  at  the  big  gates  of  the 
establishment,  which  was  known  as  the  Gorman 
Steel  Works,  and,  entering  the  enquiry  office,  asked 
whether  Mr.  Gorman  had  yet  arrived. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,  an  hour  and  a  half  ago,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Oh,  well,  take  my  card,  will  you,  and  ask  him  if 
he  can  see  me  ?" 

The  young  clerk  ushered  Brooke  into  the  waiting- 
room  and  departed  on  his  mission,  returning  in  a 
few  minutes  with  a  message  to  the  effect  that  Mr. 
Gorman  was  extremely  busy,  would  Mr.  Barty  be 
able  to  transact  his  business  with  Mr.  Matthew? 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  said  Brooke,  still  in  the  same 
240 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  241 

easy  tone.  "  Give  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Gorman, 
say  that  I  will  wait  his  pleasure,  but  that  my  busi- 
ness is  purely  personal  with  himself." 

Accordingly,  after  some  minutes'  delay,  he  was 
escorted  to  Mr.  Gorman's  private  sanctum. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Gorman,"  said  Brooke,  step- 
ping easily  across  the  room  and  holding  out  his  hand. 

"  The  Lord's  peace  be  with  you." 

"  Thank  you,  very  much,  I'm  sure ;  the  same  to 
you,  sir.  A  fine  day,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  A  very  fine  day,"  replied  Mr.  Gorman.  "  Won't 
you  sit  down  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  yes ;  thanks,  thanks."  And  Brooke 
Barty  seated  himself  in  the  big  chair  opposite  to 
Mr.  Gorman's  desk  and  settled  himself  comfortably 
with  his  hat  upon  his  knee.  "  The  fact  is,"  he  said 
— "  I'm  very  sorry  to  disturb  you,  Mr.  Gorman,  I 
know  what  business  hours  are,  but  my  business  is 
rather  important,  and  I  couldn't  possibly  transact  it 
with  your  son." 

"  I  am  at  your  disposal,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Gorman,  with  profound  civility. 

"  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Gorman,  I  want  to  marry  your 
daughter.  It's  no  use  beating  about  the  bush ;  that 
is  what  I  have  come  for ;  I  have  come  to  ask  your 
consent." 

"  Which  of  my  daughters  ?" 

"  Rachel — the  youngest, — Rachel.  I  shall  be 
16 


242  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

very  pleased  to  give  you  every  facility  for  enquiring 
into  my  character,  my  family,  my  income,  my  pros- 
pects, and  all  the  rest  of  it.  I  feel  very  sure  that 
you  can  have  no  objection  to  me  on  the  score  of  any 
of  these  points." 

"  You  have  already  asked  my  daughter  to  marry 
you  ?" 

"I  have." 

"  And  she  has  accepted  you  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Subject  to  my  consent  ?" 

"  Well,  I  suppose  we  took  that  for  granted ;  at  all 
events,  I  have  come  on  the  first  opportunity  to  ask  it." 

"Yes.  Well,  Mr.  Barty,  I  am  very  sorry,  but  I 
cannot  give  you  a  favourable  answer." 

"  And  may  I  ask  you  why,  sir  ?" 

"  Because  I  have  other  views  for  my  daughter.  I 
think  you  were  present  when  I  announced  her  en- 
gagement to  my  friend  Mr.  John  Strode.  I — I  ex- 
pect my  daughter  to  carry  out  that  engagement." 

"  My  dear  sir,  you  cannot  want  to  marry  your 
daughter  to  a  brute  like  Strode !" 

"  Not  another  word,  I  beg.  If  it  had  been  one 
of  my  other  daughters  whom  you  were  anxious  to 
marry,  and  who  was  anxious  to  marry  you,  I  should 
not  have  said  'no,'  but  my  youngest  daughter  is 
already  bespoken,  and  I  am  sorry  that  you  are  too 
late." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  243 

For  a  moment  Brooke  Barty  sat  stunned  by  the 
indomitable  and  relentless  will-power  of  the  old  man. 

"  Mr.  Gorman,"  he  said,  "  is  it  possible  that  you 
mean  what  you  say  ?" 

"  I  mean  every  word  of  it." 

"  That  you  would  marry  your  daughter  to  a  man 
whom  she  positively  loathes !" 

"  I  am  not  prepared  to  discuss  the  question  with 
you,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  eying  Brooke  Barty  with 
straight  and  unflinching  gaze.  "  I  have  promised 
my  daughter  to  my  friend  John  Strode,  and  there  is 
nothing  further  to  be  said  on  the  subject." 

"  She  will  never  marry  him  !" 

"  Excuse  me,  she  will." 

Brooke  Barty  laughed  outright.  "  Well,  Mr.  Gor- 
man, you  have  a  very  extraordinary  way  of  arrang- 
ing these  matters  and  dealing  with  your  daughter's 
life ;  but  I  suppose  there  is  no  use  in  my  wasting 
your  time,  or  you  trying  my  patience  any  longer.  I 
think,  as  a  gentleman,  as  an  honest  man,  that  it  is 
my  duty  to  tell  you  that  I  am  engaged  to  your 
daughter  Rachel,  that  I  intend  to  marry  her,  and 
that  she  intends  to  marry  me." 

"  Not  with  my  consent." 

"  Then,  sir,  we  shall  be  obliged  to  do  without  it. 
I  am  perfectly  prepared  to  lay  my  past  life  before 
you  as  an  open  book;  I  am  perfectly  prepared  to 
make  very  large  settlements  on  Rachel  and  to  defer 


244  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

to  you  in  every  possible  manner.  I  would  prefer  to 
take  my  wife  straight  from  her  own  house  from  the 
hands  of  her  father  and  mother,  but  if  her  father  is 
so  autocratic  as  you  are,  and  her  mother  so  weak  as 
Mrs.  Gorman,  you  must  forgive  me  if  I  take  her 
without  this  pleasure  and  without  this  formality. 
She  will  remain  with  your  son  until  we  are  married, 
and,  I  warn  you,  we  shall  be  married  at  the  earliest 
possible  moment." 

"  You  cannot  legally  be  married  until  Rachel 
comes  of  age,"  said  Mr.  Gorman. 

"  That's  as  may  be,  sir.  If  it  is  necessary  to  wait 
until  Rachel  comes  of  age,  I  shall  cheerfully  do  so ; 
but  although  you  may  compel  us  to  wait  until  then, 
it  is  very  certain  that  you  cannot  force  your  daughter 
into  a  marriage  to  which  she  does  not  herself  consent. 
Mercifully,  that  is  against  the  law  of  the  land,  and  it 
cannot  be  done.  I  am  very  sorry  that  you  have  met 
me  in  this  way,  because  I  think  that  one  day  you 
will  be  sorry  for  it  also.  So,  Mr.  Gorman,  I  will 
wish  you  good-morning;  but  I  don't  think,"  turning 
half  back  again,  and  looking  at  Rachel's  father  with 
a  steady,  stern  gaze, — "  I  don't  think  that  I  will  go 
through  the  farce  of  calling  down  the  Lord's  peace 
upon  you.  Good-morning,  sir." 

I  think,  if  Brooke  Barty  had  been  a  young  man 
who  was  by  way  of  being  troubled  with  gusts  of 
rage,  that  he  would  have  gone  out  of  Mr.  Gorman's 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  245 

presence  that  morning  in  a  towering  passion.  As  it 
was,  he  only  felt  it  a  bore  and  a  nuisance  that 
Matthew's  predictions  had  come  true.  There  would 
probably  be  delay,  of  necessity  there  would  be 
trouble,  in  securing  Rachel  for  his  wife ;  but  the  idea 
of  going  back  on  his  quest,  of  abandoning  his  wishes, 
and  of  leaving  Rachel  to  be  forced  into  a  marriage 
with  John  Strode  never  entered  his  mind. 

He  looked  in  at  the  enquiry  office  again. 

"  Is  Mr.  Matthew  in  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir,  Mr.  Matthew  is  in,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Ask  him  if  he  can  see  me, — Mr.  Barty." 

The  next  moment  he  found  himself  mounting  the 
stairs  towards  Matt's  room. 

"  Well,  old  chap,  what  luck  ?"  Matt  enquired,  as 
the  boy  closed  the  door  behind  Brooke  Barty. 

"Oh,  just  what  you  predicted.  Has  other  views 
for  her,  and  doesn't  stir  an  inch  from  his  original 
standpoint ;  says  he'll  make  her  marry  John  Strode 
yet." 

"  And  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  well,  I  told  him  what  I  thought, — very 
quietly,  you  know,  and  civilly,  and  all  that, — and 
then  I  came  away." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  now  ?" 

"  I  am  going  to  find  out  how  soon  I  can  get  mar- 
ried. Your  father  says  that  I  cannot  be  married 
legally  until  she  comes  of  age,  but  I  fancy  there 


246  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

must  be  a  loophole  out  of  that.  I  shall  run  up  to 
town  to-day  and  consult  my  lawyers  there.  They'll 
put  me  up  to  it  if  it's  possible." 

Matt  was  silent  for  a  minute  or  so. 

"  Well,  old  fellow,"  he  said,  "  I  believe  there's  only 
one  way  of  doing  it  without  committing  perjury, 
which  is  to  put  the  banns  up  in  some  out-of-the-way 
church  and  trust  to  luck  that  the  governor  hears 
nothing  about  it.  I  fancy  you'll  find  that  you  can 
then  give  Rachel's  age, — her  real  age, — and  if  you 
can  once  get  the  knot  tied  there  will  be  no  question 
of  its  legality." 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I'll  go  straight 
along  now  to  my  office  and  arrange  any  business 
that  may  be  pressing,  and  then  I'll  go  up  to  lunch  to 
'  The  Larches/ — they'll  give  me  some  lunch,  won't 
they  ?" 

"  Of  course  they  will." 

"  Well,  then,  if  I  run  up  to  town  by  the  five  o'clock 
train,  I  shall  catch  my  lawyer  to-morrow  morning 
as  soon  as  he  gets  to  his  office.  He'll  put  me  up  to 
it;  he's  the  sharpest  chap  I  ever  knew  in  my  life." 

"All  right;  then  I'll  meet  you  at  one  o'clock. 
We  lunch  at  one  sharp." 

Matthew  Gorman  did  not,  however,  get  home  to 
"  The  Larches"  at  the  hour  which  he  had  indicated 
to  Brooke  Barty.  For  one  thing,  he  was  not  very 
keen  on  beine  the  one  to  break  the  news  to  his  wife 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  247 

and  sister  that  his  father  had  positively  refused  to 
entertain  the  idea  of  Brooke  Barty  in  the  light  of 
Rachel's  husband.  For  another  thing,  Mr.  Gorman 
himself  quite  prevented  his  son  from  observing  his 
usual  punctuality;  for  just  as  Matt  was  thinking  of 
leaving  his  office  a  message  came  to  him  that  the 
governor  wished  to  see  him. 

Mr.  Gorman  plunged  straight  into  the  question 
just  then  uppermost  in  his  mind. 

"  You  know,  of  course,  that  young  man  Barty  has 
been  to  see  me  this  morning  ?"  he  broke  out,  without 
any  beating  about  the  bush. 

"  Yes." 

"  And  equally,  of  course,  that  I  told  him  that  I 
could  not  entertain  the  idea." 

"  It's  a  thousand  pities,"  replied  Matt,  bursting  out 
with  the  remark  in  quite  an  involuntary  fashion. 

"  As  to  that,  I  am  the  best  judge,"  said  Mr.  Gor- 
man. "  You  had  better,  since  you  are  so  friendly 
with  the  young  man,  make  it  clear  to  him  that  I  am 
one  of  those  people  with  whom  second  thoughts  are 
not  best ;  make  him  clearly  understand  that  I  never 
entertain  second  thoughts." 

"I  have,"  said  Matt;  "I  told  him  so  before  he 
came  to  you." 

"  Oh,  you  did,  did  you  ?  That  was  more  sensible 
than  I  should  have  thought  you  would  be,  Matthew." 

"  Sensible !     My  dear  father ;  I  didn't  do  it  to  serve 


248  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

your  ends ;  don't  you  think  it.  I  only  did  it  to  save 
Barty  the  pain  of  being  refused." 

"  The  end  is  the  same,"  said  Mr.  Gorman,  with 
magnificent  indifference ;  "  the  end  is  the  same.  If 
he  persists  in  his  course,  he  will  have  to  wait  until 
the  girl  is  one-and-twenty,  as  I  shall  do  everything 
in  my  power  to  prevent  their  taking  the  law  into  their 
own  hands.  I  should  naturally  do  so." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Matthew,  "  where  the 
naturalness  comes  in ;  but  I  suppose  we  shall  not  be 
likely  to  agree  on  that  point.  They  will  marry,  even 
if  they  have  to  wait  until  Rachel  is  of  age.  But 
there's  an  old  saying  which  says,  you  know,  sir, 
'  Love  will  find  out  the  way,'  and  I  shouldn't  at  all 
wonder  if  love  doesn't  find  out  the  way  in  this  in- 
stance." 

"  Love !"  said  Mr.  Gorman. 

"  Yes,  sir,  love."  Then  he  turned  back  and  looked 
at  his  father.  "  Some  day,"  he  said,  "  you  will  be 
very  glad  that  love  did  find  out  a  way  to  prevent 
Rachel  from  being  married  to  a  cad  like  John  Strode ; 
the  man  is  a  cad,  and  you  know  it.  Only  a  cad 
would  wish  to  marry  a  girl  who  openly  declares  that 
she  hates  him.  By  the  bye,  sir,  how  is  my  mother 
this  morning  ?" 

"  I  think  she  is  better,"  said  Mr.  Gorman. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that.  Then  that  is  all  you 
wish  to  say  to  me  ?" 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  249 

"  That  is  all.  You  will  make  it  clear  to  Rachel 
what  she  has  to  expect  if  she  goes  against  me." 

"  No,  sir,  that  I  cannot  do.  I  do  not  in  the  least 
know  what  your  intentions  are  with  regard  to 
Rachel." 

"  Simply  this.  That  if  she  carries  out  her  present 
rebellious  intention  of  marrying  this  young  man, 
whom  I  definitely  refused  this  morning,  she  will 
never  more  be  daughter  of  mine.  I  shall  wipe  her 
name  out  of  my  will ;  I  shall  wipe  her  name  out  of 
the  family  record ;  I  shall  have  done  with  her, — I 
shall  have  done  with  her ;  I  shall  have  no  daughter 
Rachel.  See  that  she  clearly  understands  what  her 
position  will  be." 

"  Well,  as  to  that,"  said  Matt,  sensibly  enough,  "  it 
doesn't  much  matter  what  the  position  of  a  girl's 
father  has  been  after  she  is  once  married ;  then  her 
position  depends  entirely  upon  her  husband.  And 
surely,  sir,  you  must  be  perfectly  well  aware  that 
Mrs.  Brooke  Barty  will  take  a  very  different  position 
in  the  world  to  anything  that  could  be  aspired  to  by 
Mrs.  John  Strode.  She  may  as  well  go  her  own  way, 
for  if  she  were  to  give  in  to  you  and  marry  John 
Strode  she  would  certainly  cut  herself  off  from  you 
as  surely  as  you  will  cut  her  off  if  she  marries  Brooke 
Barty,  so  that  she  may  just  as  well  please  herself  as 
far  as  her  relations  with  you  are  concerned." 

"  A  dutiful  daughter,"  began  the  old  man,  "  would 


250  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

take  pleasure  and  satisfaction  in  doing  her  duty  and 
in  giving  filial  obedience  to  her  father." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  so,"  said  Matt ;  "  but  I  have  al- 
ways understood  that  that  particular  kind  of  duty 
went  very  sorely  against  the  grain  when  you  were  a 
young  man.  I  don't  know  whether  it  has  ever  struck 
you,  sir,  that  Rachel  is  more  thoroughly  a  chip  of 
the  old  block  than  any  one  of  your  other  children. 
She  is  as  like  you  as  two  peas."  And  with  this  shot 
he  turned  on  his  heel  and  literally  fled. 

Meantime  Brooke  Barty  had  reached  "  The 
Larches"  with  his  news. 

"  No  go,  dearest,"  was  the  way  in  which  he  broke 
it  to  his  fiancee. 

"  But  what  possible  objection  can  he  have  to  you  ?" 

"  None,  not  the  least  in  the  world, — none  what- 
ever. The  only  objection  he  gives  is  that  I  am  not 
John  Strode.  He  told  me  if  I  had  wanted  to  marry 
one  of  your  sisters  he  would  have  been  most  pleased 
to  welcome  me  into  the  family,  and  so  on ;  but  he 
has  promised  you  to  John  Strode,  and  to  John  Strode 
he  means  to  give  you.  Meantime,  he  says  that  we 
shall  have  to  wait  until  you  are  one-and-twenty,  and 
that  he  will  put  every  obstacle  in  our  way  that  he  can 
think  of." 

"  Oh,  there  are  ways  and  means  of  getting  mar- 
ried !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Matthew.  "  You  don't  mean 
to  wait  until  she  is  of  age  ?" 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  251 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,"  replied  Barty.  "  I  am  going  up  to 
town  by  the  five  o'clock  train  to  consult  my  lawyers 
and  see  what  can  be  done." 

"  Did  Matt  say  he  would  be  in  to  lunch  ?"  asked 
Mrs.  Matthew  of  Brooke,  looking  at  the  clock,  the 
hands  of  which  pointed  to  ten  minutes  past  the  hour. 

"  He  did.  He  said  he  would  be  here  at  one 
o'clock  sharp." 

"  Ah,  then  he's  late.  I  will  go  and  look  out  for 
him ;  I  always  see  him  coming  along  the  road." 

As  Flo  closed  the  door  behind  her,  Brooke  Barty 
turned  to  Rachel. 

"  I  suppose,  dearest,"  he  said,  holding  her  hands 
in  his  and  looking  at  her  very  tenderly,  "  I  suppose 
that  if  I  make  arrangements  for  pulling  off  this  mar- 
riage, you  won't  draw  back,  or  anything  of  that 
kind?" 

She  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"Draw  back,  Brooke!"  she  exclaimed.  "Every 
hour  that  I  am  free  leaves  me  in  danger  of  being 
made  to  marry  John  Strode.  Make  what  arrange- 
ments you  like.  Don't  think  that  I  am  bold,  or  un- 
feminine,  or  anything  of  that  kind ;  I  have  gone  be- 
yond all  those  things.  I  am  yours ;  as  soon  as  you 
can  make  arrangements  that  I  shall  be  yours  before 
the  whole  world,  I  am  ready  for  you.  Until  we  have 
actually  come  away  from  the  church,  I  shall  not  feel 
myself  to  be  absolutely  and  entirely  safe." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  WORM   WILL  TURN. 

Some  natures  are  like  sleeping  volcanoes,  and  go  on  for  years  and 
years  in  absolute  mental  quiescence ;  but  when  once  they  are  roused 
out  of  their  habitual  calm,  or  when  something  happens  to  disturb 
their  usual  control  over  themselves,  they  are  like  the  molten  lava 
pouring  in  torrents  down  the  mountain-side.  Those  who  have  dom- 
inated them  before  can  do  nothing  more  than  stand  by  waiting. 

WHEN  Mr.  Gorman  went  home  to  lunch  that  day 
to  the  Abode  of  Peace,  he  made  a  communication  to 
his  family.  So  long  as  there  were  servants  in  the 
room  he  spoke  on  no  private  topic,  but  afterwards, 
when  the  estimable  butler  and  his  underlings  had  left 
them,  as  was  their  wont,  he  told  them  something  of 
what  had  happened  that  morning. 

"  I  wish  to  say  something,"  he  said.  "  No,"  look- 
ing at  Matty,  "  it  is  not  necessary  for  you  to  move ; 
I  wish  you  to  hear  what  I  have  to  tell  your  mother. 
My  dear,  you  have  invited  to  this  house,  once  or 
twice,  a  young  man  called  Barty, — Mr.  Brooke  Barty." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Gorman. 

"  I  don't  wish  him  to  be  invited  here  again." 

"Very  well,  Edward." 

"  I  will  tell  you  why.  He  came  to  me  this  morn- 
ing to  ask  my  consent  that  he  should  marry  Rachel. 
252 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  253 

I  need  hardly  tell  you  that  I  refused  it  absolutely.  I 
have  other  views  for  Rachel,  as  she  is  perfectly  well 
aware.  He  told  me,  in  very  plain  terms,  that  he  in- 
tends to  marry  Rachel,  and  I  have  warned  him,  and 
I  have  also  warned  Matthew,  what  will  happen  if  this 
conduct  is  persisted  in.  Meantime,  I  do  not  wish 
Mr.  Barty  to  be  a  guest  at  my  house.  I  understand 
that  Rachel  was  at  the  Hospital  Ball  last  evening.  I 
cannot  say  that  I  was  surprised,  for  at  present  nothing 
surprises  me  that  Rachel  does.  I  thought  that  all  the 
world  knew  that  I  had  objected  to  my  daughters  at- 
tending the  ball,  and  I  think  that  she  would  have 
shown  better  taste  had  she  remained  away." 

"  You  see,  Edward,  you  never  told  her  that  you 
did  not  wish  her  to  go,"  began  Mrs.  Gorman. 

"  She  knew  my  wishes  perfectly.  She  must  have 
known  that  her  sisters  were  not  allowed  to  go, — that 
I  had  objected  to  their  going.  However,  we  will  let 
that  pass.  She  went,  and  I  suppose  this  ridiculous 
proposal  was  hatched  up  during  the  course  of  the 
evening.  At  all  events,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  it 
is  disposed  of, — entirely  disposed  of.  If  they  carry 
it  out  in  spite  of  me,  I  shall  know  what  course  to 
take.  I  shall  have  no  daughter  called  Rachel." 

"  Edward,  you  will  not  cut  her  off!" 

"Absolutely.  She  has  the  alternative.  She 
chooses  between  me  and  this  young  man  whom 
she  never  saw  until  a  few  weeks  ago." 


254  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  No,  Edward,  not  between  you  and  Mr.  Barty, 
because  you  are  not  content  that  the  child  should 
stay  in  your  house  as  she  has  done  all  her  life  until 
now;  you  would  force  her  into  the  arms  of  this 
horrible  young  man." 

"  He  is  my  friend,  Margaret,  and  that  should  keep 
him  sacred  from  abuse.  However,  we  need  not 
discuss  it  at  this  moment.  What  I  wish  to  say  is 
this :  that  for  the  present  I  do  not  wish  my  daugh- 
ters to  visit  at  the  house  of  their  brother.  If  my 
son  chooses  to  defy  me,  and  my  daughter  and  my 
son's  wife  choose  likewise  to  defy  me,  that  is  no 
reason  why  my  daughters  who  have  not  yet  gone 
against  me  should  give  their  countenance  to  those 
who  do  so.  You  hear  my  wishes,"  looking  at 
Matty.  "  As  long  as  you  live  in  my  house  I  have 
a  right  to  your  obedience.  You  understand  me.  I 
wish  all  communication  between  this  house  and  'The 
Larches'  to  cease." 

"  Veiy  well,"  said  Matty. 

It  was  not  that  the  girl  was  afraid  of  her  father,  it 
was  not  that  she  was  cowed  by  him ;  her  sole  desire 
was  to  spare  her  mother  from  any  possible  trouble. 
It  was  the  same  instinct  which  led  her  to  look  at  her 
sisters  and  sign  to  them  to  go  with  her  out  of  the 
room.  She  felt  that  her  mother  would  be  best  left 
alone  at  this  juncture. 

For  a  minute  or  two  neither  Mr.  nor  Mrs.  Gor- 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  255 

man  spoke.  Then  by  an  immense  effort  Mrs.  Gor- 
man nerved  herself  to  say  what  was  in  her  mind. 

"  Edward,"  she  began,  "  I  wanted  to  say  some- 
thing to  you." 

"  Very  good,  my  dear ;  I  am  ready  to  listen." 

"  It  may  not  be  very  pleasant  to  you,"  she  said, 
gently,  "  but  I  must  say  it  for  all  that.  I  have  not 
often  gone  against  you  in  all  the  years  we  have  been 
married ;  I  have  loyally  done  everything  which  I 
believed  would  please  you." 

"  I  have  never  found  fault  with  you,"  he  reminded 
her. 

"  No,  Edward,  I  know  it ;  but  at  the  same  time 
there  is  a  place  even  for  a  husband  to  stop  at,  and 
when  you  say  that  all  communication  between  this 
house  and  our  son's  house  must  cease,  you  touch 
that  point." 

"And  why?" 

"  Because  Matthew  is  my  son ;  because  Rachel  is 
my  daughter.  If  you  choose,  unjustly,  to  cut  them 
off  from  you,  that  is  your  affair.  You  cannot  insist, 
or  expect,  that  I,  who  brought  them  into  the  world, 
shall  join  you  in  your  tyranny." 

"  Margaret !"  he  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  I  know  what  you  would  say, — that  never 
have  I  spoken  to  you  like  this  before  in  all  the  years 
that  we  have  been  married ;  I  would  not  do  so  now 
if  I  were  not  driven  to  desperation,  if  I  did  not  feel, 


256  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

as  I  have  felt  day  by  day  during  these  last  few 
weeks,  that  some  one  has  come  in  between  us  who 
had  vowed  to  be  all  the  world  to  each  other.  That 
some  one  is  the  man  John  Strode.  What  the  tie 
which  binds  him  to  you  is  I  do  not  know,  I  do  not 
want  to  know;  as  you  wish  him  to  marry  our 
daughter,  it  cannot  be  a  tie  which  under  other  cir- 
cumstances I  should  be  inclined  to  imagine.  For 
this  man,  whatever  binds  him  to  you,  you  have 
ruined  your  home,  you  are  breaking  my  heart  day 
by  day.  Well,  I  say  nothing.  I  have  all  these 
years  patiently  and  meekly  taken  the  second  place, 
lived  in  you,  for  you,  through  you,  strangled  my 
desires,  given  up  my  own  wishes,  my  own  will,  my 
own  way,  until  I  have  come  to  be  little  more  than  a 
mere  figure-head,  a  cipher.  But  there  is  a  place  to 
stop  at,  and  we  have  touched  it.  So  long  as  it  is  only 
my  will  and  happiness,  my  humanity  that  you  would 
sacrifice,  they  are  yours,  laid  at  your  feet  with  the 
love  you  have  never  valued ;  but  when  you  would 
sacrifice  the  hearts  and  the  happiness  of  my  chil- 
dren, when  you  would  step  in  between  them  and 
me,  I  say  you  must  stop.  While  I  am  your  wife,  I 
must  have  liberty  to  see  my  children  when  and  how 
I  will.  While  I  am  the  mistress  of  your  house  my 
son  must  be  free  to  visit  me,  and  my  daughter." 

"And  are  you,   too,   turning    against   me?"   he 
asked,  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  257 

She  looked  at  him. 

"  I  turn  against  you  ?  If  you  choose  to  put  it  so, 
in  that  respect.  Yes." 

"And  you  will  aid  and  abet  her  to  marry  this 
man  ?" 

"  No,  I  will  not  do  so.  But  since  I  have  had  an 
inkling  that  such  a  thing  might  be,  I  have  prayed  on 
my  knees,  with  my  heart  and  my  soul,  day  and 
night,  that  God  would  be  merciful  and  bring  it  to 
pass ;  I  have  prayed  the  Almighty  to  deliver  my 
child,  my  baby,  from  the  cruel  fate  to  which  her  own 
father  would  condemn  her,  and  to  give  her  to  the 
arms  of  this — gentleman.  And  I  will  go  on  praying, 
Edward  (as  I  will  go  on  praying  that  God  will  de- 
liver her  from  John  Strode),  that  God  will  deliver 
her  from  a  fate  so  hideous,  so  monstrous  as  to  be- 
come the  wife  of  a  man  whose  acquaintance  I  re- 
gard as  the  greatest  blot  of  your  whole  life,  so  far 
as  I  know  it.  I  will  respect  your  wishes ;  I  have 
vowed  to  you  my  obedience  as  I  gave  you  my  love ; 
but  beyond  that  not  one  step  will  I  take.  And  sup- 
posing that  I  should  never  speak  to  this  young  man 
again, — this  Brooke  Barty, — I  will  love  him  as  only 
the  mother  of  an  outraged  daughter  knows  how  to 
love.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  change  your  decision ;  I 
ask  nothing  of  you.  I  only  tell  you  that  I  must  be 
free  in  that  one  respect" 

The  old  man's  heart  had  undergone  a  dozen 
17 


258  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

different  phases  of  feeling  during  the  time  that  his 
wife  was  speaking.  At  one  time  she  had  touched 
him  almost  to  relenting,  almost  to  giving  up  his 
great  point ;  then,  when  she  told  him,  in  tones  which 
admitted  of  no  question,  that  between  her  and  her 
children  he  must  not  attempt  to  come,  his  heart  was 
hardened. 

"  I  am  not  aware,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  ever 
asked  or  demanded  anything  of  you  which  was  un- 
reasonable. On  the  contrary,  I  have  always  given 
you  full  honour  and  dignity.  I  cannot  remember, 
at  this  moment,  that  I  have  ever  questioned  one  of 
your  decisions.  I  have  been  under  the  impression, 
hitherto,  that  with  me  your  word  has  been  law.  It 
is  news  to  me  to  find  that  I  have  been  a  vindictive, 
crushing,  inhuman  tyrant,  only  anxious  to  make 
those  about  me  unhappy  and  wretched." 

"  I  did  not  say  that,  Edward." 

"You  implied  as  much.  Surely  I  know  better 
what  is  best  for  my  daughter  than  she  does.  How 
is  a  child  of  seventeen  years  old  to  know  better 
than  her  father,  who  has  gained  a  long  experience, 
what  is  the  best  and  wisest  course  for  her  to  follow  ? 
Where  is  this  child  to  have  gained  this  wonderful 
experience  which  is  to  make  her  above  all  advice,  to 
make  her  all-knowing  and  all-wise  ?" 

"  It  is  not  a  question  of  experience,  Edward,  it  is 
a  question  of  love." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  259 

"  The  child  does  not  know  her  own  mind." 

"  She  knows  her  mind  well  enough  on  both  points. 
She  knows  well  enough  that  she  hates  John  Strode, 
and  there  she  is  justified,  as  any  well-bred  girl  would 
be  justified.  She  knows  well  enough  that  she  loves 
the  other  one.  Edward,  I  was  no  older  than  Rachel 
when  I  first  knew  you.  Did  you  think  that  I  was 
not  old  enough  to  know  my  own  mind  when  I  ac- 
cepted you,  when  I  told  you  that  I  loved  you  ?  You 
never  said  as  much.  You  seemed  to  think  then 
that  the  opinion  of  a  girl  in  her  teens  was  of  some 
importance,  nay,  of  all-importance.  Why  should 
my  daughter  be  different  to  me  ?  Why  should  she 
be  less  able  to  choose  her  husband  than  I  was  ?" 

"  And  yet,"  he  said,  "  by  going  against  me  now  it 
tells  me  plainly  that  you  do  not  know  your  own 
mind,  and  that  you  have  never  learned  to  know 
mine." 

"  In  one  sense  you  are  right,"  she  responded, 
quickly.  "  I  had  not  learned  to  know  you.  When 
you  told  me  that  all  the  love  on  earth  you  had  to 
give  was  laid  at  my  feet,  I  believed  what  you  in- 
tended me  to  believe ;  I  did  not  realize  then  that  I 
was  not  to  be  everything  to  you.  I  was  young,  I 
did  not  understand  that  you  were  only  giving  me 
the  outer  husk,  the  shell  of  what  makes  life  precious 
to  all  men  and  women.  I  thought  that  the  past  at 
which  you  hinted  was  past,  gone,  done  with  for  ever, 


260  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

and  that  I  was  to  be  something  more  than  the  mis- 
tress of  your  house  and  the  mother  of  your  chil- 
dren. Well,  I  was  wrong;  I  found  it  out  soon 
enough.  I  thought  if  I  was  patient,  if  I  made  my- 
self everything  to  you,  that  in  time  I  should  be  what 
I  craved  to  be,  that  I  should  have  all  that  I  wanted. 
I  have  been  all  these  years,  Edward,  slowly  learning 
a  difficult  lesson.  I  have  learned  it  a  word  at  a 
time,  minute  by  minute,  hour  by  hour,  day  by  day, 
a  long  lesson  of  anguish.  Well,  I  have  learned  it 
by  heart  now.  You  need  not  teach  me  any  more. 
I  suppose  this  last  demand  is  by  way  of  finishing 
my  education.  It  was  finished  long  since,  long 
since;  I  do  not  want  to  know  any  more.  I  am 
crammed  full  of  that  kind  of  knowledge;  I  have 
graduated  in  pain,  I  refuse  to  take  any  further  les- 
sons. No,"  she  went  on,  as  she  saw  he  was  about 
to  speak,  "  let  be,  let  be.  I  have  said  my  say,  and  I 
have  done.  All  the  discussion  in  the  world,  all  the 
argument,  all  the  pain  and  suffering  cannot  help  me 
now;  I  have  learned  my  lesson  too  thoroughly  to 
try  and  take  a  fresh  reading  of  life." 

She  swept  out  of  the  room,  leaving  him  thunder- 
struck. I  can  find  no  words  which  will  adequately 
describe  his  pure  and  unadulterated  astonishment. 
He  was  as  intensely  surprised  as  a  butcher  might  be 
if  the  timid  sheep  or  the  innocent  young  calf  was  to 
suddenly  turn  and  upbraid  him  with  his  trade.  His 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  261 

son  might  be  independent,  that  was  natural ;  and  he 
even,  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  admired  Matt  that  he 
had  so  little  sway  over  him.  His  daughters  might 
be  rebellious  and  headstrong,  he  was  determined  to 
match  them  and  to  outwit  them ;  but  I  do  not  think 
that  surprise  had  much  to  do  with  his  feeling  to- 
wards them.  But  that  his  wife,  Margaret,  Margaret 
who  had  loved  him  and  looked  up  to  him  and  yielded 
to  him  in  every  possible  way  since  the  day  thirty 
years  agone  when  he  had  first  seen  her,  a  slim, 
young,  fair-haired  girl,  with  soft  dove's  eyes  and 
delicate  apple-blossom  cheeks,  that  she  should  turn 
upon  him  and  rend  him,  as  it  were,  limb  from  limb, 
that  she  should  scathe  and  scorn  him  with  her 
mother-love, — oh,  it  was  incredible,  astounding,  pre- 
posterous !  It  was  but  an  hour  or  two  since  Matt 
had  taunted  him  that  Rachel  was  a  chip  of  the  old 
block,  his  own  daughter ;  but  surely  if  she  had  in- 
herited certain  qualities  of  resistance  and  will  from 
him,  she  had  also  inherited  from  her  mother  some 
traces  of  a  power  of  which  he  had  never  even  sus- 
pected the  existence  before. 

"  She  does  not  know,"  he  said,  aloud  to  the  dishes 
and  the  decanters ;  "  if  she  knew,  she  would  under- 
stand. As  it  is,  she  has  always  been  fighting  against 
— against  the  past." 

He  pushed  away  his  wine-glass,  which  stood  there 
just  as  the  butler  had  filled  it,  and  rose  heavily  from 


262  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

his  chair,  crossing  the  hall  with  an  uncertain  and 
feeble  step  like  a  man  who  had  suddenly  aged  ten 
years.  And  there,  in  his  library,  he  seated  himself 
in  the  great  carved  chair,  and  set  his  dazed  brain  to 
think  out  all  that  had  happened.  So  she  had  turned 
against  him  at  last,  that  meek  and  patient  one  who 
had  stood  so  long  at  the  door  of  his  heart  waiting 
until  he  should  open  it  and  bid  her  enter.  So  she 
was  tired  of  the  quest ;  she  had  come  to  feel  that  the 
long-desired  favour  was  not  worth  striving  for.  She 
meant  in  the  future  to  go  her  own  way, — she  who 
had  always  been  content  to  travel  along  the  path 
chosen  by  him.  The  knowledge  would  have  softened 
most  men,  but  the  heart  of  Edward  Gorman  was 
only  made  the  harder.  After  all,  she  had  been  his 
wife  for  nearly  thirty  years,  she  had  enjoyed  the 
position  for  which  that  other  one  had  craved  so 
sorely  that  she  had  died  for  the  loss  of  it.  And 
during  all  that  time,  although  she  had  chosen  to 
subserviate  her  will  to  his,  there  had  never  been  one 
to  say  nay  to  her.  So  this  was  the  effect  of  Rachel's 
rebellion, — that  the  wife  who  had  been  everything  to 
him,  his  right  hand,  his  willing  slave,  his  admirer, 
his  comfort,  everything  but  the  love  of  his  heart, 
had  turned  against  him.  This  was  what  his  teaching 
had  come  to ;  and  in  his  old  age  he  was  to  be  set  at 
naught,  thwarted  and  defied  under  his  own  roof  by 
those  who  lived  upon  him;  and  he  who  had  been 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  263 

master  not  only  of  his  own  house,  not  only  in  his 
own  business,  but  whose  lightest  word  had  been  law 
even  in  his  religion,  was  to  be  dethroned,  and  his 
place  usurped  by  a  foolish  girl's  fancy  for  a  man 
upon  whom  she  had  never  set  eyes  but  a  few  weeks 
before. 

So  the  old  man's  heart,  while  it  was  heavy,  yet 
grew  hard  within  him,  and  as  with  trembling  hands 
he  sought  the  counterfeit  presentment  of  her  who 
had  never  grown  old,  who  had  died  young  for  love 
of  him,  he  registered  a  fresh  vow  that  so  long  as  he 
was  alive  he  would  strive  for  the  end  which  he  be- 
lieved to  be  right. 

"  Little  Annie,  little  Annie,"  he  murmured  to  the 
picture, "  they  don't  understand  me ;  nobody  but  you 
really  knew  me;  and  I  have  been  all  these  weary 
years  living  a  life  of  sham,  living  in  a  state  as  unreal 
as  it  was  unsatisfying,  believing  that  because  my  pain 
was  lulled  to  sleep  for  a  little  while  that  it  was  no 
longer  there.  But  I  will  keep  my  word  for  your 
sake,  so  that,  when  we  meet  again,  I  can  tell  you 
truly  that  I  never  forgot  the  promise  that  I  made  to 
you.  Oh,  little  Annie,  little  Annie,  you  who  died 
when  they  tore  you  from  me,  you  would  have  under- 
stood, and  you  alone." 

So  he  stayed  there  for  a  long,  long  time,  resting 
his  white  head  upon  his  arms,  going  back  in  a  reverie 
that  was  half  ecstasy,  half  pain,  to  those  days  gone 


264  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

by  when  the  dark-haired  girl  was  still  alive,  when  he 
and  she  had  been  young  and  their  hearts  full  of  love. 
But  no  good  angel  came  to  tell  him  that  the  words 
he  had  spoken  to  the  miniature  were  true  enough,  to 
remind  him  that  little  Annie  would  have  understood 
him,  aye,  but  that  she  would  have  understood  his 
daughter  Rachel  still  better. 

And  so  his  heart  grew  harder  and  harder,  his 
will  stronger  and  more  determined,  his  whole  nature 
more  ready  for  the  battle  which  lay  before  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ON  A   NEW   ROAD. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  world  so  obstinate  as  a  man  who  prides 
himself  on  being  firm. 

WHEN  Mrs.  Gorman  swept  out  of  the  dining-room, 
leaving  her  husband  almost  struck  dumb  with  amaze- 
ment, she  did  not,  as  might  have  been  expected  in  a 
woman  so  suffering  and  so  overstrained,  show  any 
signs  of  faintness  or  collapse.  On  the  contrary,  she 
went  straight  to  her  own  little  sitting-room  and  rang 
the  bell. 

"  Oh,  William,"  she  said  to  the  servant  who  an- 
swered it,  "  I  want  the  brougham  at  once, — that  is,  as 
soon  as  it  can  be  got  ready.  The  time  now  is  a  quar- 
ter-past two, — say  three  o'clock." 

"  Very  good,  ma'am.  Will  you  be  at  home  to  vis- 
itors, ma'am,  later  ?" 

"  Not  this  afternoon,  William ;  I  shall  be  out  some 
little  time.  If  you  see  Louise,  send  her  to  me." 

Before  the  maid  could  make  her  appearance,  how- 
ever, Matty  came  in  search  of  her  mother. 

"  Oh,  you  are  here,  dear,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  re- 
lief. "  I  wondered  where  you  were.  What  are  you 
going  to  do  to-day  ?" 

265 


266  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  I  am  going  out,"  said  Mrs.  Gorman. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  go  with  you  ?" 

"  Not  this  afternoon,  dearest  child.  I  am  going  to 
'  The  Larches,'  and  you  cannot  go  there." 

For  a  moment  Matty  was  almost  too  much  as- 
tounded to  speak. 

"  But — but "  she  stammered. 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  your  father  has  forbidden  you  and 
your  sisters  to  go  there.  Well,  you  must  do  as  he 
tells  you.  Your  father  has  laid  no  embargo  upon 
me ;  but,  of  course,  he  could  not  do  so,  and  if  he 
did  .  .  .  Oh,  well,  dear  child,  I  cannot  discuss  it 
with  you ;  what  your  father  wishes  you  to  do  does 
not  in  any  sense  apply  to  me." 

"  And  you  going  to  see  Rachel  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  to  see  Rachel, — I  must  see  her. 
I  have  ordered  the  carriage,  and  Louise  will  be  here 
in  a  minute." 

"  Let  me  put  your  things  out,"  said  Matty. 

"  No,  no,  dear ;  don't  interfere  with  Louise.  She 
knows  where  everything  is." 

Matty  was  thunderstruck  at  the  calmness  of  her 
mother's  demeanour.  She  knew,  as  well  as  if  she 
had  been  present  at  the  interview  between  her  father 
and  mother,  that  her  father's  embargo  on  her  own 
movements  and  those  of  her  sisters  had  been  in- 
tended to  apply  to  her  mother.  She  knew  that  under 
ordinary  circumstances  her  mother  would  have  un- 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  267 

hesitatingly  accepted  such  an  embargo  as  a  perfectly 
natural  and  unquestionable  decision.  And,  in  truth, 
Mr.  Gorman  himself  was  not  more  utterly  astonished 
at  his  wife's  sudden  accession  of  will-power  than  his 
eldest  daughter  was. 

In  due  course  of  time  Mrs.  Gorman,  arrayed  in 
her  smartest  visiting-gown,  went  downstairs  and  got 
into  the  neat  little  brougham  which  was  waiting  at 
the  entrance-door.  She  gave  the  order,  "  To  '  The 
Larches,'  "  without  any  attempt  at  concealment,  and 
a  few  minutes  later  found  herself  at  the  door  of 
Matthew's  house.  And  at  "The  Larches"  she  re- 
mained for  some  little  time,  not  discussing  the  situa- 
tion, but  simply  accepting  Brooke  Barty,  whom  she 
found  there,  as  her  future  son-in-law. 

"  Don't  ask  me  to  talk  things  over,"  she  said  to 
him,  "  because  I  neither  can  nor  will  do  that ;  but, 
believe  me,  that  I  have  had  no  such  good  news  for 
many  a  long  day  as  that  you  and  my  dear  child  have 
agreed  to  cast  in  your  lots  together.  I  am  so  sorry 
that  her  father  should  see  things  in  such  a  different 
light  to  her  and  to  me !" 

So  it  was  armed  with  the  light  of  Mrs.  Gorman's 
approval  that  Brooke  Barty  went  off  to  London  to 
consult  his  lawyer  as  to  the  best  way  of  safely  making 
Rachel  his  wife.  And  Mrs.  Gorman,  feeling  more 
happy  and  satisfied  in  her  mind  than  she  had  done 
for  many  a  long  day, — never,  indeed,  since  the 


268  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

shadow  of  John  Strode  had  first  arisen  upon  her 
horizon, — went  back  to  the  Abode  to  take  up  the 
burden  of  life  once  more. 

She  was  too  dignified  a  woman  to  quarrel  or  sulk 
with  her  husband,  and  she  met  him  at  the  dinner- 
table  precisely  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  He,  who 
had  spent  most  of  the  time  since  they  had  parted  sit- 
ting in  the  big  chair  of  the  library  in  communion 
with  his  lost  love,  was  feeling  crushed  and  weary,  as 
if  the  times  were  altogether  out  of  joint  with  him. 
Indeed,  he  had  come,  poor  gentleman,  to  pity  him- 
self very  much,  and  to  feel  that  it  was  cruelly  hard 
upon  him  that  his  family  could  not  be  at  one  with 
him  on  every  point.  Mrs.  Gorman  spoke  to  him 
several  times  on  casual  matters,  and  he  presently 
asked  her  if  she  had  been  out  during  the  after- 
noon. 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  out,"  she  replied.  She  did  not, 
as  the  three  girls  were  present,  tell  him  that  she  had 
been  to  "  The  Larches,"  but  after  dinner,  when  they 
had  left  the  room,  she  lingered  a  moment,  waiting, 
indeed,  until  the  door  had  closed  behind  them. 
"  Edward,"  she  said,  when  they  were  alone,  "  you 
asked  me  whether  I  had  been  out.  I  did  not  tell 
you  where  I  had  been,  because  I  did  not  think  it 
necessary  to  do  so  before  the  girls.  I  have  been  to 
see  Matthew, — Matthew  and  Rachel." 

He  was  struck  by  no  sense  of  her  innate  honesty ; 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  269 

he  only  felt  that  she  was  as  a  docile  animal  which 
had  taken  the  bit  between  her  teeth  and  meant  to  go 
whither  she  would. 

"  Very  good,"  he  said.  "  I  have  set  no  limit  on 
your  coming  and  going.  It  is  not  necessary  to  tell 
me  where  you  have  been." 

"  Not  at  all,"  she  replied,  sharply,  and  yet  with  an 
air  of  dignity  which  was  as  new  as  her  sudden  de- 
velopment of  will  power,  "  but  I  wished  you  to  know. 
There  has  never  been,  and  there  never  will  be,  any 
secret  about  my  comings  and  goings." 

"  If  you  ask  my  approval "  he  began. 

"  No,  Edward ;  pray  say  no  more  on  the  subject. 
I  neither  ask  your  approval  nor  any  longer  dread 
your  disapproval.  I  wished  you  to  know,  that  is  all ; 
no  more."  And  then,  before  he  could  speak,  she 
passed  out  of  the  room,  closing  the  door  very  gently 
behind  her. 

That  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  era  in  the  lives 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gorman.  From  that  time  forward 
she  was,  as  she  had  never  been  before,  the  mistress 
not  only  of  the  house  but  of  her  own  life.  From 
that  time  forward  he  asked  her  no  questions  as  to 
her  comings  and  goings,  and  she  volunteered  no  in- 
formation. Outwardly  she  was  the  same ;  between 
themselves  each  knew  that  there  was  a  great  gulf 
fixed  which  possibly  might  never  be  bridged  over 
again  in  this  world. 


270  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

So  time  went  on.  Mrs.  Gorman  paid  frequent 
visits  to  her  son's  house,  but  the  three  girls  never 
once  crossed  the  threshold.  Matthew  and  his  father 
met  in  business  hours  on  what  was  apparently  quite 
the  old  footing;  but  Matthew  never  went  to  the 
Abode  of  Peace,  and  not  one  of  the  family  set  foot 
within  the  sanctuary  of  the  Peacemakers.  And  Sun- 
day after  Sunday  Mr.  Gorman  sat  alone,  tall,  erect, 
and  forbidding,  in  the  pew  which  had  once  been 
filled  with  a  dutiful  and  affectionate  family.  And  the 
rest  of  the  community  sat  looking  on  in  wonder, 
while  the  white-haired  old  pastor  preached  the  Gos- 
pel of  Peace  and  exhorted  his  hearers  to  brotherly 
and  Christian  love.  Many  curious  glances  were  cast 
at  the  tall  old  man  sitting  with  folded  arms,  with  his 
dark,  burning  eyes  fixed  upon  the  preacher;  but 
none  knew  the  bitterness  of  the  heart  within,  the 
heart  from  which  peace  had  spread  her  white  wings 
and  flown  for  ever. 

"What  is  going  on  at  the  Abode?"  said  Mrs. 
Johnson-Biggs  to  Mrs.  Wilson  one  day,  when  they 
had  seen  Mr.  Gorman  stalking  away  with  little  more 
than  a  wave  of  the  hand  by  way  of  greeting  to  the 
gathering  of  the  faithful. 

"  Eh,  my  dear,  it's  a  sad  thing  to  see  a  'appy 
family  broke  up  like  that,"  cried  Mrs.  Wilson.  "  It 
makes  one  doubt  whether  the  belief  of  the  Peace- 
makers is  as  powerful  as  I  thought  it  was." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  271 

"  It's  a  blessed  belief,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson-Biggs, 
unctuously. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  it  is  a  blessed  belief;  you  are  quite 
right  there.  But  somehow  it  doesn't  seem  to  be 
bringing  manifold  blessings  to  'im  as  founded  it. 
I'm  sure  'is  looks  this  morning  is  enough  to  make 
one's  very  'eart  ache." 

"  He  looks  to  me  heart-broken,"  said  Mrs.  John- 
son-Biggs. "  I  did  my  best  to  give  him  comfort." 

"  There  is  no  giving  of  comfort,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson, 
solemnly,  "  when  the  very  foundations  is  rotten  at 
the  core." 

"Whatever  can  that  pretty  young  thing  see  in 
John  Strode  ?" 

Mrs.  Wilson  turned  a  broad  face  of  genuine  aston- 
ishment upon  the  speaker.  "  Why,  my  dear  Mrs. 
Biggs,"  she  exclaimed,  "  you  don't  mean  to  say  that 
you've  been  all  this  time  thinking  that  Rachel  Gor- 
man was  willing  and  wishful  to  marry  young  John 
Strode?" 

"  Of  course  she  is." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear,  you've  got  the  wrong  end 
of  the  story  altogether.  It's  John  Strode  that  wants 
to  marry  'er,  and  it's  John  Strode  that  'er  father 
wants  'er  to  marry.  As  for  Miss  Rachel,  bless  'er 
sweet  face,  she  never  could  abide  the  sight  of  'im. 
And  small  wonder  of  it !  I've  known  John  Strode 
this  many  a  year.  'E's  just  a  match  for  that  de 


272  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

Kloof  over  at  Arlington  Towers, — the  kind  of  fel- 
low that  would  put  'imself  to  any  pains  to  catch  a 
girl  that  didn't  want  'im,  and  then  take  a  pleasure  in 
breaking  'er  'eart  as  soon  as  'e'd  got  'er." 

"  I  assure  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Wilson,  that  you  are 
absolutely  wrong." 

"  I  assure  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Biggs,  that  I'm  per- 
fectly right" 

"  I  had  it  from  Mr.  Gorman  himself " 

"  No,  no,  my  dear  ;  you  didn't " 

"  You  doubt  my  word "  began  Mrs.  Johnson- 
Biggs,  in  an  offended  tone. 

"  No,  no,  my  dear,  I  don't  doubt  your  word ;  you 
heard  wrong,  that's  all.  I  had  it  from  the  dear  pet 
herself.  It's  the  master  that  wants  'er  to  marry  John 
Strode." 

"  Do  you  really  mean  it  ?" 

"  I  mean  it  as  sure  as  I'm  standing  'ere  on  my  two 
feet  this  minute." 

"  But  what  can  be  his  object  ?" 

"  Goodness  only  knows.  Some  people  might  think 
it  was  money.  But  I  don't  believe  it's  the  money. 
Mr.  Gorman  is  too  well  off  and  too  safely  established 
to  care  a  brass  farthing  whether  'is  daughters  marry 
money  or  whether  they  don't.  But  the  simple  truth 
is  that  'e's  promised  'er  to  John  Strode  and  she's 
promised  'erself  to  young  Mr.  Brooke  Barty." 

"  You  don't  mean  it  1" 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  273 

"  But  I  do  mean  it ;  of  course  I  mean  it.  And 
small  blame  to  the  poor  child." 

"Are  you  quite  sure,  Mrs.  Wilson?" 

"  Perfectly  sure.  I  'ad  it  from  the  dear  lamb  'er- 
self." 

A  dull,  burning  blush  arose  in  Mrs.  Johnson- 
Biggs's  thin  cheeks  as  she  recalled  how  she  had 
conveyed,  in  all  sincerity  of  purpose,  the  news  of 
Rachel's  affair  with  Brooke  Barty  to  her  father.  She 
remembered  how  coquettishly  she  had  told  him, — 
well,  she  did  not  herself  use  that  phrase  even  in  her 
own  mind,  so  perhaps  I  ought  not  to  use  it  either, — 
but  she  remembered  in  how  sprightly  a  manner  she 
had  conveyed  to  him  that  he  need  not  worry  about 
Rachel's  partiality  for  John  Strode,  as  there  was  a 
most  promising  flirtation  going  on  with  young  Mr. 
Brooke  Barty.  She  remembered,  too,  how  he  had 
shut  her  up, — yes,  shut  her  up ;  it  was  the  only  term 
which  would  adequately  convey  his  manner  on  re- 
ceipt of  the  news.  Well,  it  was  no  use  thinking 
about  it,  blushing  about  it ;  it  was  no  use  to  feel  hot 
all  over,  to  wish  that  she  had  left  well  alone  and 
minded  her  own  business.  It  was  done,  and  it  could 
not  be  undone.  She  had  made  a  mistake, — a  great 
mistake. 

"  Well,  I  am  very  sorry,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Wilson, 
putting  out  both  her  hands,  and  speaking  very  im- 
pressively ;  "  it  is  always  sad,  dreadfully  sad,  to  hear 

18 


274  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

of  disunion  in  families,  more  especially  those  who 
have  been  happy  and  united.  I  should  have 
thought,  myself,  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gorman  would 
have  been  both  better  pleased  to  have  Mr.  Barty  as 
a  son-in-law  than  John  Strode.  Thank  goodness, 
my  own  children  will  not  be  troubling  me  on  such 
matters  for  another  ten  years  or  more.  I  have  often 
heard  you  wish  that  you  had  a  dear  little  girl  of 
your  own;  perhaps  you  are  just  as  well  off  without." 

"  Oh,  well,  it's  as  the  Lord  wills  it,"  replied  Mrs. 
Wilson,  easily ;  "  but  if  I'd  'ad  a  dozen  little  girls, 
I'd  'ave  let  'em  'ave  the  men  o'  their  'earts.  Mar- 
riages is  between  them  as  makes  'em,  Mrs.  Biggs, 
and  you  might  as  well  set  three  cooks  to  make  a 
decent  omelette  as  set  more  than  two  people  to 
make  a  'appy  marriage." 

"  William,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson  to  her  spouse,  as 
she  waddled  down  the  road  beside  him,  "  never  in 
my  life  did  I  see  a  woman  so  fairly  took  aback  as 
Mrs.  j^Biggs  was  when  I  told  'er  about  the  master 
wanting  Miss  Rachel  to  marry  young  John  Strode. 
She  seemed  as  if  she  couldn't  believe  it.  She  told 
me  she'd  'ad  it  from  the  master's  own  lips,  and  she 
flushed  up  as  red  as  a  turkey  cock.  Now  I  wonder 
what  she's  been  up  to." 

"  Oh,  nothing  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Wilson,  genially, 
"  nothing  at  all.  She  was  a  bit  took  aback  and  as- 
tonished ;  she  might  well  be  that." 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  275 

"  You're  right,  she  well  might ;  I  was  myself,  but 
not  in  that  way,  not  to  go  red  all  over  my  face  and 
look  as  if  I  'ad  completely  put  my  foot  in  it,  as  she 
did.  It's  my  opinion,  William,  that  Amelia  Biggs 
'as  been  putting  'er  finger  in  a  pie  that's  no  business 
of  'er's, — that's  my  opinion." 

"Then  take  care  you  don't  do  the  same,  old 
woman." 

"  Me  !  Nay,  I've  ower  much  sense,"  she  retorted. 
"  Ye  know,  William,  it's  just  what  the  Dean  says, — 
Peacemaking  is  all  very  well  for  them  that  'asn't  any 
troubles,  and  it's  all  very  well  as  long  as  things  goes 
smooth ;  but  when  things  begins  to  go  a  bit  jerky, 
what's  the  result?  Master  comes  to  sanctuary  by 
'imself." 

"  It  does  seem  like  it,"  said  Wilson,  reflectively. 
"  Yes,  it  seems  like  it,  it  does.  But,  lor,  what  can 
he  be  thinking  of  to  want  that  pretty  young  thing 
to  take  up  with  John  Strode  ?  It's  past  compre- 
hension." 

"  Yes,  it  is." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it  has  struck  you,  missis, 
but  I  think  the  master's  failing  very  fast.'' 

"  No,  I  don't  think  'e's  failing,"  replied  Mrs.  Wil- 
son, "  but  I  think  'e's  worried,  'e's  got  a  worried 
look  about  'im ;  'e  used  to  be  so  easy,  so  ready  with 
'is  greetings, — the  Lord's  peace  be  on  you, — and  'e 
used  to  say  it  as  if  'e  meant  it.  It's  what  the  Dean 


276  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

says,  William,  it's  all  very  well  to  make  a  little  re- 
ligion of  your  own,  to  suit  your  own  ways  when 
you're  in  prosperity  and  'ealth,  but  you're  better  in 
the  old  tracks  when  troubles  come  along." 

"  I  doubt  you're  right,"  said  William  Wilson, 
"and  I  doubt  the  poor  old  master's  beginning  to 
find  it  out.  But,  old  woman,  it  isn't  what  I  call 
consistent  with  genuine  Peacemaking  to  want  your 
girl  to  marry  against  'er  feelings  and  'er  inclinations. 
Marriage  never  was  intended  for  that  and  marriage 
never  was  meant  for  that.  It  ought  to  be  a  union 
of  'earts.  That  should  be  the  first  principle  of  mar- 
riage, Polly, — a  union  of  'earts." 

"  And  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  sensibly, 
"  that  the  first  principle  of  Peacemaking  should  be 
to  let  young  folks  start  fair  when  they  venture  into 
matrimony.  That  silly  Amelia  Biggs,  what  always 
makes  me  think  of  a  goose  with  a  nick  in  'er  neck, 
'as  set  me  thinking,  William,"  the  old  lady  con- 
tinued. "  I've  always  wanted  to  'ave  a  little  girl  of 
my  own, — a  dear  little  girl  that  I  could  dress  and 
pet  and  make  much  of,  and  love  and  be  proud  of 
and  do  for ;  but  maybe  it's  all  for  the  best  that  the 
Lord  never  gave  us  one.  Eh,  dear,  she  might  'ave 
wanted  to  marry  somebody  that  I  didn't  like,  and  I 
might  'ave  wanted  to  marry  'er  to  somebody  as  she 
didn't  fancy ;  and  so  it  might  'ave  been  worse  than 
being  without.  For  you  and  me,  Wilson,  although 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  277 

we've — we've  'ad  our  rubs  and  our  troubles  and  our 
trials,  there's  one  point  that  we've  always  thought 
alike  on, — it's  what  you  said  just  now,  Wilson, — mar- 
riage ought  to  be  a  union  of  'earts." 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

HURRAH ! 

I  wonder  why  wise  people  who  make  books  and  saying-  for  the 
benefit  of  those  less  wise  than  themselves  should  always  lay  such 
stress  on  "  doing"  ?  It  is  so  easy  to  do.  One  may  make  or  mar 
one's  life  in  a  minute,  and  it  takes  even  less  time  than  that  to  break 
either  a  leg  or  a  neck.  But  undoing, — ah,  that  is  another  matter ! 

MEANTIME  the  preparations  for  transforming  Rachel 
Gorman  into  Mrs.  Brooke  Barty  were  proceeding 
merrily  apace.  On  consultation  with  his  lawyers, 
Brooke  Barty  had  found  that  the  process  was  a 
perfectly  simple  one,  with  but  one  mere  chance  by 
which  Rachel's  father  might  be  able  to  keep  them 
waiting  until  she  was  of  full  age. 

"  You  must  put  the  banns  up  in  some  out-of-the- 
way  parish  or  parishes,"  the  lawyer  explained  ;  "  on 
the  whole,  I  think  it  would  be  better  to  do  it  in  one 
parish  than  in  two,  and,  barring  the  chance  of  your 
prospective  father-in-law  discovering  that  the  banns 
are  up  and  forbidding  them,  you  can  be  tied  up  as 
legally  as  if  your  fiancee  were  twenty  years  older 
than  she  is." 

"  But  they  will  have  to  be  put  up  in  her  parish, 
the  parish  where  she  is  staying,"  said  Brooke  Barty. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Take  a  room  in  some  house  in 
278 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  279 

some  parish, — say  St.  Sepulchre's  in  the  East  or 
Bromley  or  Clapton, — Clapton  is  a  nice  out-of-the- 
way  part, — and  take  another  room  for  yourself,  either 
in  an  adjacent  parish  or  in  the  same,  but  don't  take 
them  in  the  same  house.  Put  some  belongings  of 
your  own  in  the  room  you  take  in  your  own  name 
and  some  belongings  of  your  fiancee's  in  the  room 
you  take  in  her  name,  and,  ten  chances  to  one,  your 
future  father-in-law  will  never  hear  that  the  banns 
have  been  put  up.  When  you  are  once  married  he 
will  not  be  very  likely  to  raise  any  point  as  to  the 
legality." 

"  What  point  could  he  raise  ?" 

"  Well,  he  might  say  that  you  were  not  really 
living  in  that  parish ;  he  might  try  to  prove  that  you 
had  neither  of  you  been  actually  in  residence  at  the 
addresses  you  give.  Of  course,  if  necessary,  you 
can  actually  live  for  the  time  in  the  parish  in  which 
your  banns  are  cried ;  but  the  chances  are  that  if 
you  did  so,  he  would  smell  a  rat  and  would  set 
people  on  to  the  track  at  once.  By  far  your  best 
plan  is  simply  to  take  the  rooms  and  leave  the  rest 
to  chance." 

Accordingly  the  following  Sunday  at  the  Church 
of  St.  Mildred  the  Martyr,  which  was  a  new  district 
church  situated  in  a  most  populous  part  of  a  North 
London  suburb,  among  a  list  of  eight  or  nine  others, 
the  banns  of  marriage  were  published  "between 


280  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

Brooke  Barty,  bachelor,  and  Rachel  Gorman,  spin- 
ster, both  of  this  parish."  The  congregation  was  a 
poor  one,  the  neighbourhood  one  in  which  people 
might  live  for  ten  years  and  not  so  much  as  know 
the  names  of  their  next  door  neighbours,  and  not 
one  living  soul  in  the  church  took  the  smallest 
interest  in  or  notice  of  this  marriage  any  more  than 
the  others  which  were  published  at  the  same  time. 
Nobody  even  speculated  as  to  who  Brooke  Barty, 
bachelor,  or  Rachel  Gorman,  spinster,  might  be. 
A  good  lady  of  acidulated  appearance  in  a  semi- 
genteel  row  of  houses  known  as  Garden  Terrace 
could  have  told  the  curious,  had  there  been  any, 
that  she  had  let  her  best  rooms  for  a  month  to  a 
young  lady  guaranteed  to  give  her  no  trouble,  and  a 
short,  stout  elderly,  widow,  living  in  Malcolm  Villas, 
— quite  half  a  mile  from  Garden  Terrace, — could 
have  supplied  information  as  to  the  exact  parochial 
pied  a  terre  of  Brooke  Barty,  bachelor.  Brooke 
Barty  had,  without  explaining  the  precise  situation 
to  his  landlady,  taken  possession  of  his  new  quarters, 
and,  indeed,  had  slept  there  on  two  separate  occa- 
sions; and  a  slight,  fair  lady,  wearing  a  golden 
brown  costume,  much  trimmed  with  sable,  had  taken 
possession  of  the  rooms  in  Garden  Terrace.  She, 
too,  had  left  several  books  inscribed  Rachel  Gorman, 
and  a  hand-bag  containing  a  change  of  clothing. 
"  And,  of  course,  if  anybody  should  make  any  en- 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  281 

quiry,  it  is  not  necessary  to  say  whether  the  rooms  ar< 
slept  in  or  not,  is  it  ?"  Flo  enquired. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,  miss,"  cried  the  landlady,  who,  not 
unnaturally,  took  Flo  for  the  bride-elect.  "  If  the 
rooms  is  took  and  paid  for  and  kept  clean,  nothing 
else  is  nothing  to  nobody.  Any  one  who  comes  'ere 
poking  and  prying — and,  lor,  them  parsons  do  poke 
and  pry  nowadays,  very  different  to  what  they  used 
to  be  in  my  time — I'll  just  say  that  Miss  Gorman  is 
the  sweetest  young  lady  I've  had  the  pleasure  of 
serving  for  a  long  time,  and,  if  necessary,  I'll  just 
take  and  show  'em  the  night-gown  laid  out  on  the 
bed,  and  the  brush  and  comb  stood  ready  on  the 
dressing-table.  But,  lor,  miss,  don't  you  worrit; 
nobody  will  ask  a  thing." 

Flo  was  so  struck  with  the  ingenuity  of  laying  out 
the  night-dress  on  the  bed  and  the  brush  and  comb 
on  the  dressing-table  that  she  slipped  an  extra  dou- 
ceur into  the  hand  of  the  acidulated  lady. 

"  Then  I  may  depend  upon  you,"  she  said ;  "  and, 
believe  me,  I  am  most  obliged  to  you  for  letting  me 
have  these  nice  rooms.  I  only  wish  I  could  come 
and  live  in  them." 

"  Ah,  indeed,  and  I  wish  so  too.  Perhaps  when 
you're  married,  miss " 

"  Ah,  I'm  afraid  my  home  will  be  in  the  country," 
said  Flo,  who  thought  it  was  better  not  to  explain 
too  much  the  position  of  affairs.  "  But  possibly  I 


282  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

may  come  up  and  spend  a  night  or  two  here  with  a 
friend." 

"  The  bridesmaid,  perhaps  ?" 

"Well,  not  exactly  the  bridesmaid,  but  she  is  a 
great  friend,"  said  Flo,  edging  away  towards  the  door. 

Apparently  nobody  took  the  trouble  to  enquire 
whether  there  was  a  young  lady  staying  at  No.  10 
Garden  Terrace  or  a  young  gentleman  at  No.  2  Mal- 
colm Villas,  for  the  three  necessary  weeks  passed 
over  without  any  enquiry,  and  on  the  three  necessary 
Sundays  the  same  announcement  was  heard  in  the 
Church  of  St.  Mildred  the  Martyr  as  to  the  future 
intentions  of  Brooke  Barty,  bachelor,  and  Rachel 
Gorman,  spinster. 

These  preparations  were  kept  a  dead  secret  from 
everybody  but  Flo  and  Matthew. 

"  I  think  I  really  must  have  a  new  dress  to  be  mar- 
ried in,"  said  Rachel,  doubtfully,  when  they  had  fully 
fixed  on  the  date  for  the  wedding. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  you  can't  be  married  in  an  old  dress ; 
you'll  have  no  luck,"  cried  Flo. 

"  I  think  you're  very  foolish  to  be  buying  a  new 
dress  now;  it's  sure  to  arouse  suspicion,"  objected 
Matt. 

"  I  might  get  it  in  London." 

"Oh,  surely,  Matt,  she  could  have  a  smart  new 
walking-dress,"  said  Flo.  "  Do  you  suppose  that 
Briggs,  the  tailor,  is  going  to  trot  round  to  the 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  283 

Works  and  tell  your  father  that  the  girl  is  going  to 
have  a  new  dress  ?  The  girls  all  have  their  own  al- 
lowance. Does  your  father  ever  trouble  as  to  how 
you  spend  your  money  ?" 

"  Oh,  never." 

"Then  I  should  have  a  new  tailor-made  dress; 
you'll  feel  so  miserable  in  an  old  one.  I  know  men 
think  it  doesn't  matter.  All  men  are  alike ;  all  men 
who  are  going  to  be  married  say,  '  Oh,  don't  bother 
about  it ;  don't  buy  anything  now ;  I'll  give  you  any- 
thing you  want  afterwards.'  But  women  don't  feel 
like  that." 

"  I  will  buy  her  anything  she  wants  afterwards," 
cried  Brooke  Barty  at  this  point ;  "  at  least,  I'll  give 
her  as  much  money  as  she  likes,  and  she  can  buy 
what  she  wants." 

"  Oh,  yes,  dear  boy,  it's  not  that, — it's  not  quite  the 
same  thing,  is  it,  Rachel  ?" 

"  Well,  I  would  rather  be  married  in  a  new  dress," 
said  Rachel,  though  she  was  obviously  not  very  keen 
on  the  subject  of  new  clothing.  "  I  think  I'll  get  a 
new  dress  at  Briggs's  and  trust  to  chance  for  it's  not 
seeming  to  look  like  a  wedding-dress." 

Indeed,  her  choice  was  sober  enough,  and  neither 
Mr.  Briggs  nor  any  of  his  myrmidons  guessed  that 
the  simple  gown  of  tabac  brown  for  which  Miss 
Rachel  Gorman  was  fitted  about  this  time  was,  in 
truth,  her  wedding  garment. 


284  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

The  secret  was  well  kept.  Not  a  word  escaped 
the  lips  of  the  four  conspirators.  Rachel  did  not  see 
her  sisters  excepting  once  or  twice  by  chance  on  the 
street,  and  all  Brooke  Barty's  preparations  were  made 
in  London  itself. 

"  We  won't  even  think  about  a  house  until  we  are 
married,"  he  said,  one  evening  on  his  return  from 
town,  when  he  had  brought  half  a  dozen  cases  con- 
taining beautiful  jewellery  for  her  acceptance.  "  That 
can  be  done  afterwards  just  as  well  as  before.  When 
we  come  back  again  we  will  put  up  at  the  '  Mitre ;' 
for  I  am  sure  we  have  inflicted  ourselves  long  enough 
upon  Matt  and  his  wife." 

He  forebore  to  say  what  was  in  his  mind,  that 
when  they  came  back  again  he  would  wish  to  have 
his  wife  to  himself;  but  that  is  neither  here  nor 
there. 

As  for  Rachel,  she  acquiesced  in  everything.  So 
long  as  she  could  get  the  barrier  of  Brooke  Barty's 
name  and  arm  put  between  her  and  John  Strode  she 
cared  little  for  the  actual  manner  in  which  the  bar- 
rier might  be  made  a  perfectly  legal  one.  The 
marriage  was  the  thing,  not  the  details  thereof. 

In  an  ordinary  way,  Matt  would,  of  course,  have 
preferred  to  go  with  his  wife  and  his  sister  to  Lon- 
don and  see  the  knot  safely  tied.  But  he  felt  that  it 
would  not  do  for  him  to  be  absent  from  the  Works 
for  so  much  as  a  single  day  lest  his  father's  sus- 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  285 

picions  should  be  aroused  and  possibly  some  watch 
set  upon  his  sister's  movements.  Therefore,  when 
the  appointed  day  came,  Flo  went  off  to  London 
alone  with  Rachel.  They  left  by  the  mail  at  nine 
o'clock,  Matt  seeing  them  off  and  safely  settled  in  a 
reserved  carriage.  It  was  by  the  merest  chance  that 
some  one  else  did  not  see  them  also,  for  as  he  went 
out  of  the  station  he  ran  against  William  Biggs,  who 
was  just  sauntering  in. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Matthew,  is  that  you  ?"  he  said. 

"Yes,  William.  What  are  you  doing  gadding 
about  the  station  ?" 

"  I  came  down  to  buy  an  evening  paper,  Mr. 
Matthew,"  replied  Biggs. 

"  Well,  I've  just  got  one  ;  here  it  is ;  it  was  the  last." 

"  But  don't  you  want  it  ?" 

"  No,  no ;  I  only  bought  it  for  idleness." 

He  thrust  the  paper  into  the  elder  man's  hand  in 
a  way  that  admitted  of  no  refusal. 

"  But  you  came  down  on  purpose  to  get  it,  Mr. 
Matthew,"  he  remarked,  as  a  last  feeble  objection. 

"  I  didn't ;  no,  on  my  honour,  I  didn't.  I  came 
down  to  see  a  friend  off.  I  bought  it  from  sheer 
idleness,  on  my  honour  I  did.  Take  it  with  a  clear 
conscience,  William ;  I'd  ask  you  for  it  back  if  I 
really  wanted  it." 

The  two  turned  and  walked  out  of  the  station  to- 
gether, and  along  the  road  as  far  as  their  ways  went 


286  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

together,  and  as  Matthew,  after  parting  with  William 
Biggs,  went  along  the  quiet  suburban  road  to  his 
own  house,  he  chuckled  to  think  how  near  a  shave 
it  had  been  of  the  whole  situation  being  laid  bare  to 
one  who,  with  the  best  intentions  in  the  world,  might 
chance  to  set  his  father  on  the  track. 

Meantime,  Flo  and  Rachel  were  pleasantly  speed- 
ing along  their  road  to  London. 

"  I'm  so  glad  we  got  safely  away,"  cried  Flo,  who 
was  much  the  most  excited  of  the  two. 

"  Oh,  yes.  Why  should  anything  happen  ?  Noth- 
ing ever  does." 

"  It  might.     One  never  knows." 

The  girl  did  not  answer.  She  put  her  head  back 
against  the  cushions  of  the  carriage  as  if  she  were 
very  tired.  Flo  looked  at  her  in  some  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Why,  my  dear,  how  little  excited  you  are  !  No- 
body would  dream  that  you  were  just  running  away 
from  home !" 

"  I  am  excited,"  said  Rachel,  "  but  my  case  is  too 
serious  to  be  foolishly  excited  about  it.  I  am  excited 
at  getting  out  of  John  Strode's  clutches  for  ever,  but 
I  am  not  in  the  least  excited  at  marrying  Brooke. 
Besides,  what  would  be  the  good  if  I  were  ?  If  I 
were  you,  Flo,  I  would  tuck  your  feet  up  and  go  to 
sleep ;  you  will  want  all  your  strength  to-morrow." 

But  sleep  was  very  far  from  Flo's  eyes.    She  found 


THE  PEACEMAKERS.  287 

herself  wondering  whether  those  whom  they  had 
left  behind  had  got  any  inkling  of  their  intent,  and 
whether  they  might  not  find  a  detective  at  the  other 
end  of  the  line  who  would  politely  recommend  Miss 
Rachel  to  go  quietly  with  him,  and  express  his  sor- 
row at  the  unpleasant  duty  he  was  called  upon  to 
perform.  She  thought  of  all  sorts  of  preposterous 
and  unlikely  contingencies,  forgetting  quite  that  how- 
ever stern  a  father  might  be,  however  set  against  a 
daughter's  marriage,  he  could  not  quite  treat  her  as 
if  she  were  a  criminal  escaping  from  justice. 

And  nothing  happened.  They  reached  the  ter- 
minus without  let  or  hindrance,  and  Brooke  Barty 
met  them  in  quite  his  ordinary  manner,  as  if  they 
were  merely  coming  up  to  do  a  couple  of  theatres 
and  a  little  shopping.  They  went  to  an  hotel  in  Hoi- 
born,  where  Mr.  Barty  had  already  taken  rooms  for 
them  ;  he  had  also  ordered  supper, — a  very  modest 
little  meal,  as  he  apologetically  explained.  And  then 
they  parted  for  the  night,  to  meet  again  the  following 
morning  at  the  Church  of  St.  Mildred  the  Martyr. 

"  I  feel  most  horribly  conspiratorial  and  guilty," 
exclaimed  Flo,  as  they  got  into  the  cab  at  the  North 
London  Station,  which  was  nearest  to  the  church. 
"  And  you,  you  wretched  child,  you  look  as  happy 
and  as  calm  as  if  you'd  been  married  every  day  of 
your  life  for  the  last  ten  years." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  feel  conspiratorial," 


288  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

said  Rachel,  glancing  at  her  sister-in-law.  "  We've 
been  driven  to  what  we  are  doing,  and  if  nobody  in- 
terrupts us  I  shall  be  safe.  Think  of  it !  For  all 
my  life  I  shall  never  be  pursued  by  John  Strode  any 
more !" 

"  Oh,  nothing  will  happen,"  cried  Flo,  assuming 
an  air  of  assurance  which,  in  truth,  she  was  very  far 
from  feeling. 

She  was  right,  however,  for  nothing  did  happen. 
Brooke  Barty  met  them  at  the  church  and  a  great 
friend  of  his,  who  had  come  to  be  his  best  man, — one 
Mr.  Reginald  Croft.  Brooke  Barty  had  already  given 
him  an  outline  of  the  situation,  and  if  Reginald 
Croft  thought  his  friend  somewhat  of  a  fool  he  kept 
his  opinion  to  himself.  But  when  he  saw  Rachel,  so 
tall,  so  fresh,  with  her  dewy  eyes,  her  soft  silky  hair, 
and  her  wonderful  rose-and-lily  skin,  he  understood 
all  at  once  why  Barty  had  been  so  anxious  not  to 
lose  her. 

"  It  is  very  hard  upon  you  not  to  have  a  brides- 
maid," said  Flo,  as  they  passed  into  the  church 
together. 

"  But  you  are  the  bridesmaid !" 

"  I  ?     No ;  I'm  her  sister-in-law." 

"  Oh,  I  see.     I  thought  you  were  Miss  Gorman." 

"  No ;  Mrs.  Gorman,  her  sister-in-law.  That's  what 
I  say  is  so  hard  upon  you.  Best  men  always  look  for 
a  bridesmaid.  But Oh,  here's  the  clergyman." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  289 

It  does  not  take  very  long  to  unite  a  couple  in 
holy  matrimony,  and  it  seemed  an  incredibly  short 
time,  even  to  those  who  were  so  anxious  that  the 
end  should  be  accomplished,  before  the  words  came, 
— "  be  not  afraid  with  any  amazement." 

"  I  suppose  we  are  all  safe  now,"  whispered  Rachel, 
as  they  went  towards  the  vestry. 

"  I  suppose  so ;  at  all  events,  we  shall  be  as  soon 
as  the  books  are  signed." 

But  there  was  no  need  of  even  the  smallest  qualm. 
The  four  waited  in  the  vestry  while  the  clergyman 
and  the  clerk  got  the  books  ready  for  signing, 
then  the  signatures  were  appended,  and  nothing  on 
this  side  of  the  grave,  excepting  their  own  act, 
could  sever  the  two  who  had  thus  plighted  their 
vows. 

They  drove  back  to  the  station,  waited  a  few 
minutes  for  a  train,  and  then  went  back  to  the  hotel 
where  the  two  ladies  had  slept.  Their  luncheon  was 
awaiting  them,  with  a  wedding-cake  sent  from  Buz- 
zard's and  some  flowers,  including  the  orthodox 
orange  blossoms,  for  Rachel  to  wear.  There,  too, 
they  found  the  best  man's  present,  a  handsome  bangle 
set  with  diamonds,  a  great  diamond  heart  with  R.  B. 
in  rubies,  the  gift  of  the  bridegroom,  a  beautiful 
dressing-case  from  Matt,  and  several  telegrams  ad- 
dressed to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brooke  Barty. 

"  Before  I  sit  down,"  said  Brooke  to  Flo,  "  I  must 
19 


29o  THE  PEACEMAKERS. 

just  go  and  send  Matt  a  telegram  to  let  him  know 
that  all  is  over." 

"  There  are  forms  on  that  table,"  said  Flo,  whose 
quick  eyes  had  been  wandering  about  the  room. 

"All  right.  Will  this  do?"  He  sat  down  and 
wrote,  "  Brooke  Barty  to  Matthew  Gorman,  '  The 
Larches/  Mullingham.  Brooke  and  Rachel  safely 
married  this  morning." 

"  Yes,  that  will  do,"  she  said. 

He  signed  his  name  at  the  bottom  of  the  form, 
and  then  added  one  jubilant  word  to  the  message, — 
"  Hurrah !" 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 
LOST! 

It  is  a  terrible  thing  when  one  feels  that  one  has  lived  too  long. 

BROOKE  BARTY  did  not  content  himself  with  send- 
ing a  single  message  announcing  the  accomplishment 
of  his  marriage.  At  the  same  time  that  he  sent  one 
off  to  Matthew,  now  his  brother-in-law,  he  also  sent 
a  similar  message  addressed  to  Mrs.  Gorman  at  the 
Abode  of  Peace. 

Mrs.  Gorman  received  the  message  just  when  they 
were  finishing  luncheon.  When  William  appeared 
carrying  the  missive  upon  a  tray,  Mr.  Gorman  in- 
stinctively stretched  out  his  hand  to  take  it. 

"  For  me,  William  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  for  the  mistress,"  was  the  reply. 

Mr.  Gorman  looked  surprised,  but  said  nothing  in 
the  presence  of  the  servant,  for  it  must  be  confessed 
that  telegraphic  messages  were  not  of  frequent  oc- 
currence in  Mrs.  Gorman's  life,  excepting  when  her 
husband  happened  to  be  away  from  home,  which  was 
not  very  pften.  It  must  be  confessed  that,  under 
existing  circumstances,  he  did  not  like  to  ask  her 
what  was  in  the  message.  If  there  was  one  subject 
upon  which  he  was  more  human  than  most  others,  it 

291 


292  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

was  the  desire  to  know  the  contents  of  a  telegram, 
and  after  waiting  a  couple  of  minutes  while  William 
decorously  fidgetted  about  the  room,  his  curiosity 
got  the  better  of  him  and  he  looked  across  the  table 
at  his  wife. 

"  No  bad  news,  I  hope,  Margaret  ?" 

Mrs.  Gorman  rose  from  her  chair.  "  For  me, 
Edward,  the  very  best  news,"  she  said.  "  Pass  that 
to  your  father,  Matty." 

She  did  not  wait  to  see  the  effect  of  the  announce- 
ment, but  went  out  of  the  room,  followed  by  her 
daughters. 

His  wife's  manner  had  told  the  old  man  what  to 
expect,  but  some  moments  passed  before  he  could 
sufficiently  control  himself  to  make  himself  master 
of  its  contents.  Then,  when  William  had  finally  de- 
parted, he  braced  himself  for  the  effort  and  read  the 
message.  It  seemed  to  be  written  in  letters  of  fire. 

"  Brooke  and  Rachel  safely  married  at  the  Church 
of  St.  Mildred  the  Martyr,  London,  N.,  this  morning." 

So  they  had  outwitted  him,  and  the  darling 
scheme  of  his  heart  was  rendered  impossible  for 
ever ;  and  his  wife,  the  woman  he  had  believed  to  be 
his,  to  be  all  his,  whom  he  had  believed  to  have  no 
thoughts,  hopes,  ambitions,  or  desires  outside  of  his 
own,  had  spoken  of  it  as  the  best  possible  news  for 
her, — the  happiest  news  that  she  could  possibly  re- 
ceive! So  this  child  and  this  young  man,  little 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  293 

more  than  a  stranger,  had  set  their  will  up  against 
his,  and  they  had  been  too  many  for  him.  They 
had  set  him  at  naught,  despised  him,  made  little  or 
nothing  of  him.  And  he  had  no  choice  but  to  sub- 
mit. Well,  he  had  lived  too  long ;  he  had  lived  to  be 
too  old ;  his  children,  even  those  in  their  teens,  knew 
better  than  he,  who  had  lived  a  long  and  honour- 
able life.  It  was  time  that  he  went  away :  it  was  a 
pity  that  he  had  not  slipped  quietly  out  of  life  a  year 
or  two  back,  when  all  the  world  that  knew  him 
would  have  held  his  name  in  honour,  when  his 
children  would  have  revered  his  memory,  and  his 
wife  would  have  said  with  truth  that  there  had  never 
been  but  one  thought  between  them.  They  had  got 
the  better  of  him.  How  could  he  meet  John  Strode, 
to  whom  he  had  given  his  word  ?  How  could  he 
endure  to  see  this  rebellious  child  and  her  bold 
young  husband  passing  to  and  fro  in  the  streets  day 
by  day,  week  in  week  out  ?  He  knew  that  all  the 
world  would  expect  that  he  should  forgive  her ;  he 
knew,  although  he  had  for  years  past  shut  himself 
up  in  a  world  of  his  own,  in  which  his  own  will  had 
been  omnipotent,  his  own  wishes  omniscient,  and  the 
glory  of  Edward  Gorman  omnipresent,  he  knew  that 
the  sympathy  of  human  nature  would  go  out  to  the 
young  couple  who  had  taken  the  law  into  their  own 
hands.  And  yet,  while  they  had  made  him  break 
his  word  to  John  Strode,  he  was  not  of  necessity 


294  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

obliged  thereby  to  break  his  oath  with  regard  to 
Rachel. 

"  From  this  moment,"  he  said,  banging  his  hand 
down  upon  the  table,  "  I  have  only  three  daughters." 

It  had  been  good  news  to  his  wife,  to  Rachel's 
mother,  to  her  who  had  upholden  him  during  thirty 
long  years,  yes,  it  had  been  good  news.  The  world 
would  give  her  credit  for  her  mother-love ;  the  world 
would  blacken  him  for  a  hard-hearted  old  man  who 
wanted  to  traffic  his  daughter;  the  world  would 
never  understand.  But  the  heart  of  Edward  Gor- 
man never  softened  in  the  smallest  degree.  No,  the 
world  might  deride  him,  the  world  might  blame  him  ; 
that  was  likely  enough,  for  the  world  would  never 
realize  or  understand  the  pure  justice  of  his  motives, 
would  never  understand  that  he  had  made  a  vow  and 
given  a  promise  long  years  before  that  he  would 
serve  John  Strode,  come  weal,  come  woe,  at  his  own 
or  any  cost. 

He  wondered  had  they,  those  jubilant  and  trium- 
phant ones  in  London,  had  they  had  the  cruelty  to 
send  their  message  speeding  over  the  wires  that  John 
Strode  might  know  it  as  soon  as  anybody  in  Mulling- 
ham  ?  He  could  not  risk  the  chance  of  that ;  he 
must  make  an  effort  and  see  him — yes ;  he  would 
have  the  coupe  at  once, — he  would  go  and  find  him ; 
he  might  be  at  the  Club;  if  not,  he  would  drive 
on  to  Arlington  Towers ;  but  it  would  be  with  an 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  295 

effort.  He  felt  as  if  his  vitality  was  gone.  His  burn- 
ing eyes  wandered  over  the  lunch-table.  No,  there 
was  nothing  there  that  could  help  him.  Good  claret, 
Niersteiner, — they  were  very  well  to  drink  with  a 
meal,  but  they  would  put  no  life  into  a  man  who 
felt  as  if  his  life  was  ebbing  away.  He  must  have 
brandy.  He  looked  round.  Yes,  it  was  there — on 
the  sideboard ;  he  must  make  an  effort  to  get  to  it. 

He  was  still  sitting  there  when  William  came  in. 
William  coughed  apologetically. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir ;  I  thought  that  you  had 
gone  to  the  library." 

"  Give  me  the  brandy,  William,"  said  Mr.  Gorman, 
speaking  in  a  thick,  uncertain  voice. 

"With  soda,  sir?" 

"  Put  it  down  there  and  leave  me." 

"  The  master  looks  main  queer,"  remarked  William 
to  his  special  friend  the  cook,  when  he  passed  once 
more  into  his  own  regions.  "  I  doubt  there  was  bad 
news  in  that  telegram  the  mistress  got  just  now." 

"  Master's  been  failing  for  some  time,  let  me  tell 
you,  William,"  was  the  cook's  reply. 

"  Ah,  he's  never  been  the  same  since  he  turned  poor 
Miss  Rachel  out.  Mark  my  words,  Mrs.  Bell,  that 
no  man,  not  even  one  that  runs  a  praying-shop  of  his 
own,  can  afford  to  go  agin  his  own  flesh  and  blood. 
Master's  tried  it,  and  it's  left  its  mark  upon  him." 

"  I've  no  patience  with  that  same  praying-shop," 


296  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

said  Mrs.  Bell,  speaking  in  very  dry  and  decided 
accents.  "  I  always  found  a  good  'onest  church  or 
chapel,  whichever  'appened  to  be  'andiest,  good 
enough  for  me.  I'm  afraid,  William,  that  in  religion 
it's  like  everything  else, — them  as  isn't  satisfied  with 
what  they've  got,  they're  like  the  bad  workman  that 
never  'as  good  tools." 

Meantime,  Mr.  Gorman  still  sat  there  at  the  foot 
of  the  table,  waiting  to  summon  up  courage  to  get 
into  his  library.  He  half-filled  a  tumbler  with  the 
brandy  which  William  had  set  at  his  elbow.  It  was 
old  and  extremely  good  in  quality,  and  Mr.  Gorman 
tasted  it  ere  he  added  water  to  it.  He  hesitated  to 
dilute  what  he  required  to  give  him  strength.  He 
could  not  drink  it  neat,  for  he  was  not,  and  never  had 
been,  in  any  sense  of  the  word  a  drinker.  Then  his 
eye  fell  upon  a  decanter  of  old  port  standing  just  in 
front  of  him.  He  had  not  noticed  it  before  when 
glancing  over  the  table.  Without  hesitation  he  filled 
up  the  tumbler  with  port  and  drank  the  mixture  almost 
at  a  single  draught.  It  was  strong  enough  to  make 
him  wince  as  if  he  had  been  drinking  some  corroding 
spirit,  strong  enough  to  run  like  molten  fire  through 
his  veins,  to  give  him  new  strength,  to  make  for  the 
time  a  new  man  of  him. 

"  Ah !"  he  said,  taking  a  deep  breath,  "  that  has 
pulled  me  together,  that  has  made  a  man  of  me  once 
more." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  297 

He  left  his  place  then,  going  with  fairly  steady 
steps  to  the  door  and  out  into  the  hall.  He  reached 
the  shelter  of  the  library  without  encountering  any 
of  the  family, — who,  if  the  truth  be  told,  were  keep- 
ing purposely  out  of  his  road, — and  there  he  shut 
the  door  behind  him  and  crossed  the  great  softly  car- 
peted room  to  the  table,  where  he  sat  himself  down 
in  the  big  chair  alone  with  his  purpose.  For  a  few 
minutes  he  sat  still,  as  if  trying  to  nerve  and  recover 
himself.  The  strong  drink  that  he  had  forced  down 
his  throat  was  still  running  in  his  veins  like  fire,  but 
his  head  was  clear,  his  purpose  was  definite.  He 
drew  a  block  of  note-paper  towards  him  and  took 
his  favourite  pen  from  the  tray  which  stood  at  his 
right  hand.  Then  he  wrote : 

"  MY  DEAR  JOHN  STRODE, — This  message,  just  received  by  my 
wife,  will  tell  you  that  it  is  no  longer  in  my  power  to  keep  the 
promise  I  made  you  and  which  I  have  done  my  best  to  further. 
From  this  moment  I  have  no  daughter  Rachel,  and  I  shall  be  much 
obliged  to  you  if  you  will  never  speak  of  her  to  me  again.  I 
cannot  recall  any  instance  in  the  whole  of  my  life  in  which  I  have 
hitherto  failed  to  fulfil  my  promises  and  engagements.  It  is  with 
shame  that  I  write  to  you  now  to  confess  that  my  promise  is  broken 
and  can  never  be  carried  out. 
"  I  am, 

"  Yours  faithfully, 

"  EDWARD  GORMAN." 

He  sealed  the  letter  with  his  own  signet  and  set 
it  aside.  Then  he  took  his  keys  from  his  pocket 


298  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

and  opened  a  cupboard  at  the  right  side  of  the  great 
desk.  There  was  nothing  there  beyond  two  or 
three  large  books.  One  of  these  he  took  from  the 
recess  and  laid  it  upon  the  table  before  him.  It  was 
a  large  Bible,  a  very  beautiful  volume  bound  and 
clasped  with  silver,  and  on  the  front  page  was 
written  the  date  of  his  father's  and  mother's  mar- 
riage, his  own  birth,  his  mother's  death,  the  subse- 
quent marriage  of  his  father,  his  own  marriage,  and 
the  births  of  his  children.  He  read  them  all  from 
first  to  last,  and  then  he  took  up  his  pen  again  and 
dipped  it  once  more  in  the  ink.  Through  the  name 
of  Rachel  at  the  end  of  the  list  he  drew  a  thick  and 
heavy  line,  writing  at  the  end — "  Lost,"  with  the  date 
of  the  day  and  the  year.  This  done,  he  made  a 
movement  as  if  to  take  the  blotting-paper  which  lay 
underneath  the  book ;  then  he  changed  his  intention 
and  determined  to  wait  until  the  ink  was  dry.  And 
so  he  did ;  aye,  until  the  ink  was  more  than  dry,  for 
he  sat  there  until  the  cold  spring  sunshine  and  the 
spring  daylight  darkened  into  gray,  until  the  fire 
slowly  died  in  the  grate  and  the  ink  was  dry,  as  dry 
as  that  of  any  of  the  entries  which  had  been  made 
before. 

So,  in  the  end,  William  found  him,  huddled  up  in 
the  great  chair,  his  inert  body  supported  by  the 
massively  carved  arms,  the  open  Bible  on  the  desk 
before  him,  and  the  letter  to  John  Strode  just  where 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  299 

he  had  laid  it  down.  It  was  but  the  work  of  a  mo- 
ment to  rouse  the  house ;  to  call  out  that  Mr.  Gor- 
man was  very  ill,  that  he  had  had  some  kind  of  fit, 
to  send  one  man  for  a  doctor,  another  for  brandy,  to 
give  a  third  servant  orders  to  prepare  his  bed,  to 
call  for  the  mistress,  to  get  him  flat  down  upon  the 
floor,  to  unloosen  his  collar  and  shirt,  to  bid  some 
one  fetch  Mr.  Matthew. 

And  in  the  midst  of  all  this  bustle  Edward  Gor- 
man breathed  heavily  on,  taking  no  heed  of  aught 
that  passed,  or  of  any  one  who  came  and  went. 

The  doctor  was  there  in  a  few  minutes.  "  Apo- 
plexy," he  said  at  once  to  William.  "  Little  or 
nothing  to  be  done.  Get  hot  bags  and  bricks  to 
his  feet  and  legs,  and  half  a  dozen  mustard  leaves 
to  the  nape  of  his  neck ;  but  I  am  afraid  it's  all  of 
little  use.  My  dear  Mrs.  Gorman,"  he  said,  "  what 
has  happened  to  put  your  husband  out  ?" 

"  He  has  been  put  out  to-day,  doctor ;  my  young- 
est daughter  was  married  this  morning." 

"  Against  her  father's  wishes  ?" 

"  Well,  yes." 

"  Against  yours  ?" 

"  No,  not  against  mine." 

"  You  think  he  had  the  news  ?" 

"Yes;  the  news  came  just  as  we  had  finished 
luncheon." 

She  was  like  a  woman  walking  in  a  dream.     She 


3oo  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

answered  him  in  a  hard,  mechanical  sort  of  way,  as 
if  she  was  repeating  something  she  had  learned  by 
rote. 

"  This  has  been  coming  on  for  some  time,"  he  said, 
gently ;  "  there  is  no  doubt  about  that,  and,  possibly, 
this  news  may  have  hastened  the  end.  I  am  afraid, 
my  dear  lady,  that  you  must  be  prepared  for  the 
worst." 

"You  mean  that  he  is  dying, — that  there  is  no 
hope  ?" 

"  There  is  always  hope  while  there  is  life,  but,  at 
the  same  time,  the  thread  of  hope  in  a  case  like  this, 
and  in  a  man  of  your  husband's  age,  is  very,  very 
slight.  Have  you  a  nurse  at  hand  ?" 

"  No.     But  I  can  send  down  to  the  institution." 

"  Then  you  had  better  send  at  once.  I  know  that 
they  have  at  least  two  in.  If  you  will  give  me  pen 
and  ink  I  will  write  the  note,  so  that  the  lady  supe- 
rior may  know  that  the  case  is  urgent." 

"  You  had  better  get  two  if  they  can  be  spared," 
said  Mrs.  Gorman. 

"  Very  good." 

His  own  instinct  told  him  that,  in  all  probability, 
only  one  nurse  would  be  required.  However,  the 
Gormans  were  rich  people,  and  there  was  just  a  faint 
thread  of  hope,  so  that  the  lady's  fancy  might  as  well 
be  gratified. 

"  Shall  we  get  him  upstairs  into  his  own  bed  ?" 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  301 

"  No,  by  no  means.  He  must  not  be  moved  from 
where  he  is  excepting  on  to  a  mattress.  There  is 
no  need  to  carry  him  upstairs.  Let  some  of  your 
people  bring  down  a  bed  into  the  library.  You  will 
find  it  more  convenient  on  all  accounts.  I  will  stay 
and  see  him  lifted  on  to  it ;  indeed,  I  will  stay  until 
the  nurses  come." 

There  was  really  not  very  much  to  be  done.  The 
doctor,  with  quick  professional  hands,  ripped  off  the 
old  man's  clothing,  cutting  ruthlessly  that  he  might 
accomplish  the  task  with  greater  ease  and  celerity, 
and  with  the  aid  of  the  two  men-servants,  he  very 
soon  got  Mr.  Gorman  safely  into  the  bed  which  they 
had  brought  down  to  the  library  for  him.  It  took 
but  little  time  to  bring  hot  bags  and  bottles  and  put 
them  to  the  poor  unconscious  feet,  to  plaster  the 
back  of  the  neck  with  mustard  leaves.  But  it  was 
all  of  little  use.  Mr.  Gorman  took  no  notice  of  those 
around  him,  and  breathed  heavily  on,  the  breathing 
of  one  whose  hours  in  this  world  were  num- 
bered. 

It  seemed  to  be  only  a  few  minutes  before  Matt 
came  tearing  up  in  the  brougham  from  the  Works. 
He  was  looking  very  white  and  scared,  but  his 
mother,  who  met  him  in  the  hall,  was  outwardly  as 
calm  as  a  rock. 

"  Was  it  the  news  that  did  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  am  afraid  it  was." 


302  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

"  Did  you  have  a  telegram  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Did  you  give  it  to  him  ?" 

"  Yes.     He  asked  me  for  it." 

"  Poor  little  mother !" 

She  was  not  little,  but  she  seemed  so  to  Matt  at 
that  moment.  He  put  his  arms  round  her  and  drew 
her  close  to  him. 

"  Dearest  mother,"  he  said,  "  is  there  no  hope  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid — none." 

"  Where  is  he  ?" 

"  In  the  library.  Dr.  Carson  won't  allow  him  to 
be  carried  upstairs.  They  have  brought  a  bed  down. 
The  nurses  will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes ;  I  have  just 
had  a  message  from  the  institution." 

"  Does  he  know  you  ?" 

"  He  knows  nobody." 

"  Who  is  with  him  ?" 

"  William  has  never  left  him,  dear.  I — I — I  ought 
to  be  there.  I'll  go  back  there  now." 

"  No,  mother,  stay  quietly  for  a  while  with  Matty ; 
it  cannot  be  necessary  for  you  to  be  there  if  he  is 
unconscious.  I  will  go  and  stay  there.  Here  is 
Matty  coming  downstairs. — Cannot  you  keep  mother 
quietly  for  a  little  while  until  things  are  settled  in 
that  room  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  was  just  coming  for  her.  Dear  mother,"  she 
said,  "you  have  had  no  tea;  come  back  into  the 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  303 

morning-room  and  let  me  give  you  some,  and  then 
you  will   be  more  fit  to  go  and  stay  there  until, 

until " 

"Until  the  end,"  finished  her  mother. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

THIRTY  YEARS   OF  WAITING. 

The  martyr  whose  poor  body  is  shrivelled  up  in  one  quick,  scorch- 
ing flame  is  honoured  for  all  time ;  the  martyr  whose  heart  is  slowly 
broken  by  a  slow  process  of  starvation  is  generally  dismissed  in  a 
single  curt  phrase, — "  It  was  her  own  fault." 

As  soon  as  he  had  seen  his  mother  safely  seated 
by  the  fire  of  the  morning-room,  Matthew  Gorman 
left  her  to  his  sister's  ministrations  and  went  into  the 
library.  He  had  not  had  much  experience  of  illness 
and  none  of  death,  but  a  glance  was  sufficient  to 
show  him  that  the  sands  of  his  father's  life  were  fast 
running  out. 

"  Can  you  do  nothing  ?"  he  said  to  the  doctor,  who 
was  bending  over  the  patient. 

"  We  are  doing  everything  that  we  can,"  was  the 
guarded  reply.  Then  he  finished  his  particular  task, 
and,  straightening  his  back,  shook  hands  with  Mat- 
thew. Shook  hands,  did  I  say  ?  Well,  he  put  one 
hand  on  his  shoulder  and  grasped  his  hand  with  the 
other.  "  My  dear  boy,"  he  said,  in  an  undertone, 
"your  father  is  an  old  man,  and  the  old  must  go 
before  the  young.  He  feels  nothing  ;  he  is  not  suf- 
fering, although  that  look  is  dreadful." 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  come  to  again  ?" 
3°4 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  305 

"  He  may  do  so,  but  I  should  say  it  was  most 
doubtful.  By  the  bye,  Matthew,  I  see  that  there  are 
drawers  and  cupboards  open  there ;  let  me  advise 
you,  as  you  have  strange  nurses  coming,  and  various 
people  about,  to  lock  everything  up  and  put  the 
keys  in  your  pocket." 

Thus  Matthew's  attention  was  drawn  to  the  desk  at 
which  his  father  had  been  sitting  when  William  had 
found  him.  The  first  thing  he  noticed  was  the  letter 
addressed  to  John  Strode.  This  he  slipped  into  his 
pocket  without  a  single  word.  Then  he  perceived 
the  great  Bible  lying  open  on  the  slope  at  which  his 
father  always  wrote.  His  first  thought  was  one 
almost  of  pride  that  his  father's  last  act  should  have 
been  one  of  reading  the  Scriptures,  but  a  second 
glance  showed  him  that  he  had  evidently  not  been 
occupied  with  the  contents  of  the  Holy  Book.  No, 
there  was  the  Book  open  at  the  pages  which  held  the 
family  record,  and  there  was  the  thick  black  score 
passed  through  Rachel's  name,  and  against  it  the 
entry  "Lost"  with  that  day's  date  written  under- 
neath. 

So  his  father's  last  act  had  been  one  not  of  peace 
but  of  war.  He  had  kept  his  word,  he  had  cut  the 
girl  off,  blotting  her  out  as  ruthlessly  as  if  she  had 
committed  some  terrible  and  disgraceful  crime.  Well, 
at  all  events,  his  mother  should  not  be  pained  by 
seeing  that,  for  the  present  at  all  events,  never,  if  he 


3o6  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

could  avoid  it.  So  he  shut  the  book  with  a  bang 
and  thrust  it  away  into  the  depths  of  the  cupboard 
where  it  was  usually  kept,  turning  the  key  in  the 
lock  and  hiding  the  bunch  of  keys,  of  which  it  was 
one,  in  his  own  pocket.  Then  he  went  back  to  the 
doctor's  side  again. 

And  presently  the  nurses  arrived  and  at  once  took 
up  their  places  by  the  bed.  And  then  Matty  came, 
bringing  her  mother.  And  then  the  two  girls,  who 
had  been  out  in  the  town,  came  home,  to  be  greeted 
by  the  terrible  news,  and  they  stole  in  with  white, 
scared  faces,  for  they  had  never  been  in  the  presence 
of  death  before. 

"  I  should  like  to  send  a  message  for  Rachel," 
Mrs.  Gorman  whispered  to  her  son.  "They  may 
have  left  the  hotel;  but  surely  we  can  find  them 
somehow?" 

"  They  will  not  be  wanted,"  he  replied. 

"  Supposing  that  your  father  should  come  to  him- 
self and  ask  for  them  ?"  she  urged.  "  How  terrible 
if  they  were  not  here  !" 

"  He  won't  ask  for  them,  dearest." 

"  You  don't  know  that,  Matt,"  she  whispered  back, 
painfully,  "you  don't  know.  Sometimes  these  fits 
pass  off,  and  Dr.  Carson  is  doing  everything  that  is 
possible.  Yes,  nurse,  I  will  move ;  yes,  don't  let  me 
be  in  the  road,  because  you  know  exactly  what  is 
wanted  and  I  don't.  At  all  events,  Matt  dear,  send 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  307 

them  a  wire  at  once.  We  may  catch  them.  Tell 
them  that  your  father  is  very  ill,  that  they  are  to 
return  at  once.  When  is  Flo  coming  back  ?" 

"  To-night.     She  is  on  her  way  now." 

"  Ah !  Then  we  cannot  get  her  any  sooner.  But 
do  send  that  wire  off  at  once ;  it  is  not  six  o'clock. 
Send  it  to  the  hotel  where  Flo  stayed  last  night,  and 
tell  them,  if  they  are  gone,  to  forward  the  message 
without  an  instant's  delay." 

So  Matt  went  out  of  the  room  to  do  her  bidding, 
and  the  dreary  watch  went  on. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  Flo  came,  tired 
by  her  journey,  yet  full  of  pity  and  compassion  for 
the  anguish  in  her  mother-in-law's  eyes  and  the  look 
of  pain  upon  her  blanched  cheeks. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Gorman,"  she  said,  "  was  it  the  news 
that  caused  this  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  so.  And  I  gave  it  to  him,  Flo,  I 
gave  it  to  him.  And  I — I  told  him  that  it  was  the 
best  news  I  could  possibly  have." 

"Well,  dear,  you  didn't  know  that  this  would 
happen.  How  could  you  ?  Why  don't  you  come 
away  for  a  little  time  ?  They  will  fetch  you  if  there 
is  any  change.  Come  out  into  one  of  the  other 
rooms ;  it  is  so  bad  for  you  sitting  here.  Do,  dear 
Mrs.  Gorman." 

She  suffered  herself  to  be  led  out  into  the  hall, 
but  immediately,  when  she  realized  where  she  was, 


308  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

turned  and  insisted  on  going  back  to  the  library 
once  more. 

"  No,  no,  I  must  be  there.  He  might  come  back 
to  his  own  self  again,  and  all  might  be  as  it  used  to 
be  between  us.  I — I  might  be  out  of  the  room  and 
miss  it.  I  must  go  back.  Don't  keep  me,  Flo." 

She  felt  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but 
allow  the  stricken  woman  to  have  her  way. 

So  Margaret  Gorman  went  back  to  her  terrible 
vigil  by  the  side  of  him  who  had  been  her  all  in  all. 

One  by  one  the  girls  came  creeping  in,  taking  it 
in  turns  to  sit  with  their  mother,  who  never  deserted 
her  post.  And  towards  morning  there  came  a  mes- 
sage from  Brooke  and  Rachel  at  Dover,  saying  that 
the  telegram  had  been  received  and  that  they  were 
starting  as  soon  as  possible  for  home. 

"  If  only  she  gets  here  in  time  I  am  sure  he  will 
forgive  her,"  whispered  Mrs.  Gorman,  turning  tender 
eyes  upon  the  inert  figure  on  the  bed.  "  Don't  you 
think  he  will,  Matt  ?" 

"  I  hope  so,  dearest,"  said  Matt. 

He  felt  in  the  face  of  the  scored-out  name  in  the 
Bible  that  it  was  most  unlikely  his  father  would, 
if  he  came  to  his  own  senses  again,  relent  in  the 
smallest  degree.  But,  he  argued  with  himself,  what 
was  the  use  of  harassing  his  mother  with  such  infor- 
mation or  such  conjecture  at  a  time  like  this, — at  a 
time  when  she  was  more  than  half  inclined  to  blame 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  309 

herself  at  having  been  the  cause  of  his  father's  ill- 
ness? 

"  He  has  been  so  strange,  so  unlike  himself  lately," 
Mrs.  Gorman  went  on ;  "  but  at  heart  he  always  loved 
peace." 

"  Yes,  dear,  yes.  By  the  bye,  would  you  like  me 
to  send  for  Mr.  Melville  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  Matt;  yes,  dear  boy,  I  am  sure  your 
father  would  wish  it." 

"  I  will  go  out  and  send  now.  No,  dear,  it  is  not 
too  late.  It  would  never  be  too  late  for  him;  he 
would  be  terribly  upset  if  he  thought  that  we  should 
consider  the  hour  at  a  time  like  this." 

As  Matt  went  across  the  hall  his  sister  Matty  came 
out  of  the  morning-room. 

"  Oh,  Matt,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilson  have  just  come, 
dear ;  they've  just  heard  what  has  happened.  They 
are  in  there.  There  is  nothing  that  they  can  do,  but 
it's  awfully  good  of  them  to  come.  You  might  let 
mother  know." 

"Yes,  of  course,  I  will.  I  don't  think  she  will 
come  out  of  the  room,  because  she's  so  afraid  he 
may  come  to  again  and  miss  her." 

In  reality,  Matthew  Gorman  knew  that  his  mother 
was  afraid  that  if  his  father  came  to  his  own  senses 
again  she  might  miss  the  spell  of  lucidity. 

He  sent  one  of  the  men  off  for  the  old  pastor, — for 
none  of  the  servants  had  gone  to  bed,  but  preferred 


3io  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

to  wait  about  on  the  chance  of  anything  being  wanted. 
Then  he  went  on  into  the  morning-room,  where  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Wilson  were  waiting. 

"  I  'ave  only  just  'card  the  news,  Mr.  Matthew,' * 
Mr.  Wilson  began,  huskily.  "  Is  it  as  bad  as  they 
think?" 

"  It  is  as  bad  as  it  can  be,  Mr.  Wilson.  Mrs.  Wil- 
son, it's  awfully  good  of  you  to  have  come, — my 
mother  will  be  so  grateful.  If  you  will  wait  a  minute, 
I  will  let  her  know  that  you  are  here." 

"And  if  there  is  anything  I  can  do,  dear  Mr. 
Matt,  your  mother  knows — you  know — I'm  'ere, 
and  I'm  ready  to  be  made  use  of,"  the  good  woman 
exclaimed. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  Mrs.  Wilson ;  I  will  tell 
her." 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson  to  Matty,  "  what 
'as  'appened?  What  caused  it?  The  master  was 
all  right  this  morning  when  'e  left  the  Works  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  was  quite  fit,"  Mr.  Wilson  exclaimed. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Wilson,  the  fact  is — there  was  a  tele- 
gram my  mother  had, — a  telegram  saying  Rachel 
was  married  this  morning.  I'm  awfully  afraid  it's 
upset  my  father  more  than  we  thought  it  would 
do." 

"To  Mr.  Barty?" 

"Yes;  they  were  married  this  morning  in  Lon- 
don." 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  311 

"  Oh— oh— h— h !  Then  'e  took  it  to  'eart  ?  Dear 
Miss  Matty,  I'm  sorry  for  that,  though  I'm  glad  she's 
married,  you  know ;  but  I'm  sorry  the  master  was 
put  about  over  it, — I'm  sorry  'e's  taken  it  so  sadly  to 
'eart,  I  am." 

"  I  think  my  father  did  take  things  to  heart,  par- 
ticularly when  they  went  against  him,"  said  Matty. 
"  At  all  events,  my  mother  showed  him  the  telegram 
after  lunch,  and  William  found  him  in  the  afternoon 
sitting  quite  unconscious  in  his  chair  before  the  desk 
in  the  library.  Nothing  seems  to  be  any  good  that 
they  try.  The  doctor  has  been  with  him  ever  since, 
and  they've  got  two  nurses,  but  he  has  not  shown 
any  signs  of  returning  consciousness  so  far." 

"  And  your  poor  ma  ?" 

"  Oh,  poor  mother — she  was  devoted  to  my  father, 
you  know,  and  she  won't  leave  the  room.  Yes,  he 
is  in  the  library  still ;  the  doctor  forbade  his  being 
moved  upstairs ;  he  said  it  was  the  only  chance.  So 
they  brought  a  bed  down  into  the  library,  and  my 
mother  is  there  now." 

At  this  moment  Matthew  came  back  bringing  his 
mother  with  him. 

"  I  have  persuaded  her  to  come  out  and  have 
something  to  eat.  Matty  dear,  will  you  go  and 
stay  there,  and  if  there  is  the  least  sign  of  any 
change  come  at  once  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  will." 


312  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

Matty  sped  off  like  lightning,  and  Mrs.  Gorman 
came  slowly  into  the  room.  At  the  sight  of  Mrs. 
Wilson  her  face  changed. 

"  How  kind  of  you  to  come !"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Wilson  made  a  rush  towards  her. 

"  My  poor  dear,  my  poor  dear  lady,"  she  cried, 
"  of  course  we  came,  Wilson  and  me  !  We  were 
'eart-broke  to  think  of  anything  being  amiss  with  the 
dear  master.  You'll  let  me  stay  with  you  ?  I'll  not 
be  any  worry.  I've  been  through  troubles,  my 
dear  ;  I  know  what  it  is." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  you  are  both  so  kind,"  said  Mrs. 
Gorman.  "  If  only  he  comes  to,  if  only  he  comes 
to,  just  to  speak — just  to  say  that  he  forgives  the 
child  for  going  her  own  way,  where  her  heart  led 
her.  Oh,  if  only  he  forgives  her,  Mrs.  Wilson,  I 
shall  be  happy.  But  there  he  lies,  hour  after  hour, 
never  moving,  knowing  nothing,  knowing  nobody ! 
It  is  dreadful — dreadful." 

"  'Ave  you  sent  for  the  dear  lamb  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  we  telegraphed,  and  we  have  had  an 
answer.  They  are  on  their  way  now.  Oh,  if  only 
he  lives  to  know  her  and  to  forgive  her !" 

She  suffered  them  to  draw  her  to  the  table  and 
patiently  tried  to  eat  a  little  of  what  they  set  before 
her.  Then  she  pushed  away  her  plate  and  declared 
that  she  had  had  more  than  enough. 

"  I  must  go  back,"  she  said,  half  nervously.    "  Mrs. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  313 

Wilson,  you  will  come  in — you  would  like  to  see 
him?" 

"  I  will  come  with  you,  my  poor  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Wilson.  "  And  Wilson,  too, — you'll  let  'im  see  the 
master  ?  It  may  be  for  the  last  time." 

As  they  crossed  the  hall  towards  the  library  they 
saw  William  coming  from  the  outer  hall  followed  by 
the  pastor  of  the  sanctuary.  His  white  hair  was 
uncovered,  and  as  he  perceived  the  group  coming 
from  the  morning-room  he  put  up  one  hand  in  bene- 
diction. 

"The  Lord's  peace  be  upon  this  house  and  all 
within  it,"  he  said,  raising  his  eyes  solemnly  to 
heaven. 

The  words  which  fell  from  the  lips  of  all  who 
heard  him  were  involuntary.  "The  Lord  grant 
it." 

It  was  Mrs.  Gorman  who  first  made  a  step  forward. 

"  Dear  friend,"  she  said,  putting  out  the  hand 
nearest  to  him, — "  dear  friend,  we  have  great  need  of 
you.  He  lies  very  ill;  I  am  afraid  he  will  know 
nobody  again  in  this  world  ;  and  I  am  praying  that 
if  he  must  pass  into  the  Unknown,  he  may  pass  in 
peace  with  all  that  love  him.  Dear  friend,  you  know 
the  unhappy  differences  which  have  parted  us  as  a 
family  these  last  days.  Rachel  was  married  this 
morning  in  London.  If  he  comes  to,  if  you  find  that 
he  knows  you,  if  there  is  a  chance,  will  you  not,  for 


3H  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

my  sake,  press  forgiveness  upon  him  ?  We  have  all 
need  of  it,  and  she  and  I  most  of  any." 

She  led  him  into  the  great,  dimly  lighted  library 
and  up  to  the  side  of  the  bed  where  Mr.  Gorman 
still  lay  inert  and  unconscious.  Without  a  word, 
with  no  more  than  a  look,  the  old  pastor  fell  upon 
his  knees  and  prayed. 

"  Oh,  dear  Lord  God,"  he  said, "  Thou  hast  brought 
us  face  to  face  with  one  of  Thy  great  mysteries. 
Let  us  die  as  we  have  tried  to  live — in  peace  with  all 
men.  Be  Thou  strong  where  we  are  weak,  and  if 
there  be  any  who  have  wronged  us,  give  us  Thy 
grace  that  we  may  leave  them  with  perfect  love  and 
forgiveness.  Oh,  dear  Lord  Jesus,  who  forgave  them 
that  didst  despitefully  use  Thee,  so  help  us  weak  and 
faltering  ones  that  we  may  follow  Thy  blessed  exam- 
ple and  say  with  Thee,  'Thy  will  be  done,'  and 
'  Father,  forgive  them.'  Let  us  die  as  we  have  lived, 
certain  that  Thou  hast  seen  and  will  aid  our  weak 
endeavours.  Let  us  be  merciful  as  we  hope  and  pray 
Thou  wilt  be  merciful  to  us,  that  we  may  pass  from 
this  world  of  trouble,  where  only  the  reflection  of 
Thy  perfect  peace  can  ever  shine,  to  that  land  above 
where  strife  is  unknown,  and  where  the  faithful  made 
perfect  in  love  may  ever  abide  in  a  glorious  peace 
which  shall  know  no  end,  where  the  word  forgiveness 
is  unknown  because  there  is  nothing  to  forgive, 
where  peace  doth  shine  as  the  sun,  and  where  Thou 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  315 

art  the  fount  and  joy  of  all  who  have  lived  and  died 
in  Thee.  Dear  Lord  God,  if  our  brother,  who  to- 
night has  set  his  feet  upon  the  shore  of  the  eternal 
ocean,  be  destined  to  pass  away  from  us,  grant  that 
he  may  leave  no  trace  behind  of  aught  but  that  per- 
fect love  and  peace  which  for  many  years  it  hath 
been  his  pride  and  his  joy  to  inculcate  among  those 
around  him  here.  Of  Thine  infinite  mercy  grant 
that  he  depart  not,  if  it  be  Thy  will  to  take  him, 
without  some  word  of  farewell  to  his  faithful  wife. 
Her  desire,  dear  Lord,  is  not  one  of  self,  it  is  the 
outcome  of  pure  mother-love  and  honest  faithful 
wifehood.  Oh,  dear  Lord  God,  give  this  faithful 
heart  a  little  of  Thy  Divine  healing  grace  that  she 
may  carry  through  the  years  which  may  be  left 
to  her  a  blessed  remembrance  of  Thy  leniency 
and  mercy.  And  this  we  ask  not  of  ourselves, 
but  by  the  human  suffering  and  Divine  tender- 
ness of  Thy  beloved  Son,  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
Amen." 

Perhaps  it  was  the  impassioned  words  in  the 
wholly  tender  voice  of  the  aged  pastor  that  pierced 
through  the  gloom  which  over-pressed  the  brain  of 
the  sick  man.  At  all  events,  as  they  all  knelt  around 
the  bed,  he  was  roused  from  his  stupor.  His  wife 
was  still  kneeling  beside  the  pastor,  her  clasped 
hands  stretched  over  the  coverlet,  her  sad  strained 
face  turned  towards  that  of  her  husband,  when  his 


316  THE   PEACEMAKERS. 

eyes  unclosed,  and  he  fixed  them  upon  her  with  a 
gleam  of  recognition. 

"  Dear  God,  thou  hast  answered  my  prayer !"  she 
burst  out.  "  Edward,  Edward, — speak  to  me, — speak 
to  me, — it  is  your  wife  !" 

The  doctor,  who  was  still  there,  raised  him  a  little, 
and  he  smiled  upon  her. 

"  Little  Annie,"  he  said,  in  a  sweet  far-away  voice, 
"  is  it  really  you  ?  It  is  such  a  long  time  since  I  saw 
you.  I  thought  we  should  never  meet  again." 

"  Edward, — it  is  I, — your  wife, — Margaret !" 

"  Little  Annie,"  he  went  on,  still  looking  upon  her 
with  that  sweet  mysterious  smile,  "  I  tried  to  keep 
my  promise;  I  did  my  best  to  give  your  boy  his 
happiness.  They  broke  my  heart  Little  Annie,  we 
meet  again  .  .  .  Annie !" 

The  light  in  the  dark  burning  eyes  faded  out ;  the 
head  fell  back  against  the  doctor's  shoulder;  there 
was  a  dead  silence. 

Then  the  voice  of  the  old  pastor  broke  the  silence. 

"  May  God,  in  His  infinite  mercy,  receive  his  soul." 

The  tears  were  streaming  down  William  Wilson's 
face,  his  wife  had  hidden  her  eyes  against  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  the  three  girls  were  clinging  one  to  another, 
and  Flo  was  holding  hard  on  to  her  husband's  arm. 

Then  the  new-made  widow  rose  from  her  knees 
and  stood  watching  the  doctor  as  he  laid  all  that 
was  left  of  Edward  Gorman  back  upon  the  pillows. 


THE   PEACEMAKERS.  317 

And  so  she  stood,  still  as  a  statue,  while  not  one, 
even  of  her  own  children,  dared  to  move  a  step  to- 
wards her,  or  put  out  a  hand  to  touch  her. 

"  I  have  waited  thirty  years,"  she  said,  in  a  hope- 
less and  desolate  tone,  "  for  ...  this  /" 

She  stretched  out  her  arms  to  the  still  figure  on 
the  bed,  as  if  to  show  the  dead  blank  that  was  left 
after  her  years  of  waiting.  Then  she  turned  blindly 
away  and  went  out  of  the  presence  of  death,  to  face 
the  rest  of  her  life  .  .  alone ! 


THE    END. 


RECENT  FICTION. 


By  Adelaide  Skeel  and  William  H.  Brearley. 

King  Washington. 

A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  HUDSON  HIGHLANDS.     Illustrated.     12010. 
Cloth,  Jr. 25. 

"A  unique  historical  novel,  filled  with  stirring  incidents  and  closing  with  a. 
startling  denouement.  The'plot  is  laid  in  that  period  of  time  when  Washington 
was  the  hero  of  the  day,  and  many  of  the  incidents  of  his  career  enter  into  the 
tale.  Many  of  Washington's  officers  appear,  and  groups  of  ladies  who  followed 
the  camp  and  made  it  bright  with  social  gayeties." — Detroit  Tribune. 


By  Meta  Orred. 

•'  Glamour." 

A  Romance.     I2mo.     Cloth,  deckle  edges,  $1.25. 

"  The  scenes  are  laid  in  the  early  days  of  chivalry,  the  characters  are 
chivalric,  manly,  womanly,  and  helpful  to  the  average  reader,  though  surrounded 
by  the  availing  environments  of  the  ideal.  The  novel  is  a  strong  one,  and  dis- 
closes the  masterly  touches  of  an  artist  and  interpreter  from  beginning  to  close  of 
the  book." — Boston  Courier. 


By  Cockburn  Harvey. 

The  Light  that  Lies. 

With  decorations  in  the  text  and  seven  full-page  illustrations,  by 

F.   McKERNAN.      i6mo.     Cloth,  gilt  top,  75  cents. 

New  Edition,  issued  in  paper,  35  cents. 

"  The  narrative  is  to  be  commended  for  Its  agreeable  lightness  and  its  un- 
forced humor.  The  egotism  and  stupidity  of  Mr.  Merton  are  very  happily  ex- 
pressed ;  the  manner  in  which  his  best  laid  plans  '  gang  aft  a-gley'  is  exceedingly 
•droll ;  and  the  story  of  his  heart-history  is  presented  in  a  very  enticing  form." — 
New  York  Times. 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


RECENT  FICTION. 


By  L.  Cope  Cornford. 

The  Master-Beggars. 

I2mo.     Illustrated.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  A  well-told  and  exciting  story  of  the  sixteenth  century  that  breathlessly 
hurries  the  reader  along  in  the  strong  current  of  its  plot.  We  commend  the  work 
to  all  those  who  are  fond  of  an  adventurous  story  artistically  told." — Boston 
Evening  Gazette. 

By  T.  C.  DeLeon. 

The  Pride  of  the  Mercers. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  deckle  edges,  $1.25. 

"  A  historical  story  of  Southern  life  in  the  period  subsequent  to  the  War  of  the 
Rebellion.  The  plot  is  somewhat  intricate  and  is  skilfully  handled.  The  actors 
take  strong  hold  of  the  reader,  and  the  book  is  full  of  vitality.  It  deals  with  crime 
and  even  tragedy,  yet  it  is  a  helpful,  wholesome  story,  as  well  as  one  of  much 
more  than  ordinary  interest  and  power." — Boston  Congregationalist. 


By  Julia  Magruder. 

Dead  Selves. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  ornamental,  $1.25. 

"  The  story  is  a  suggestive  study  of  a  peculiar  situation,  and  the  problem 
involved  is  worked  out  with  surprising  ingenuity.  It  is  a  strong  story,  oftentimes 
dramatic  in  its  treatment  and  action.  It  is  a  love  story,  but  by  no  means  an 
ordinary  one." — Utica  Herald. 

By  Clinton  Ross. 
Chalmette. 

Cloth  extra,  deckle  edges,  with  frontispiece,  $1.50. 

"  Clinton  Ross  writes  fiction  with  an  easy  touch  of  graceful  vivacity  and  a 
rush  of  impulsive  incident  that  are  shown  in  '  Chalmette  '  He  has  done  nothing 
better  either  in  respect  of  construction,  of  rapid  character  sketching,  or  of  style. 
The  story  is  essentially  interesting  and  the  tone  of  romantic  drama  is  well  sus- 
tained."— Philadelphia  Press. 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


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